AUGUSTINE: CONFESSIONS
Newly translated and edited
by
ALBERT C. OUTLER, Ph.D., D.D.
Professor of Theology
Perkins School of Theology
Southern Methodist University
Dallas, Texas
First published MCMLV
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 55-5021
This book is in the public domain.
It was scanned from an uncopyrighted edition.
Harry Plantinga
planting@cs.pitt.edu
Introduction
LIKE A COLOSSUS BESTRIDING TWO WORLDS, Augustine stands as the last patristic
and the first medieval father of Western Christianity. He gathered together and
conserved all the main motifs of Latin Christianity from Tertullian to Ambrose; he
appropriated the heritage of Nicene orthodoxy; he was a Chalcedonian before
Chalcedon--and he drew all this into an unsystematic synthesis which is still our
best mirror of the heart and mind of the Christian community in the Roman
Empire. More than this, he freely received and deliberately reconsecrated the
religious philosophy of the Greco-Roman world to a new apologetic use in
maintaining the intelligibility of the Christian proclamation. Yet, even in his role as
summator of tradition, he was no mere eclectic. The center of his “system” is in the
Holy Scriptures, as they ordered and moved his heart and mind. It was in Scripture
that, first and last, Augustine found the focus of his religious authority.
At the same time, it was this essentially conservative genius who recast the
patristic tradition into the new pattern by which European Christianity would be
largely shaped and who, with relatively little interest in historical detail, wrought
out the first comprehensive “philosophy of history.” Augustine regarded himself as
much less an innovator than a summator. He was less a reformer of the Church
than the defender of the Church’s faith. His own self-chosen project was to save
Christianity from the disruption of heresy and the calumnies of the pagans, and,
above everything else, to renew and exalt the faithful hearing of the gospel of man’s
utter need and God’s abundant grace. But the unforeseen result of this enterprise
was to furnish the motifs of the Church’s piety and doctrine for the next thousand
years and more. Wherever one touches the Middle Ages, he finds the marks of
Augustine’s influence, powerful and pervasive--even Aquinas is more of an
Augustinian at heart than a “proper” Aristotelian. In the Protestant Reformation,
the evangelical elements in Augustine’s thought were appealed to in condemnation
of the corruptions of popular Catholicism--yet even those corruptions had a certain
right of appeal to some of the non-evangelical aspects of Augustine’s thought and
life. And, still today, in the important theological revival of our own time, the
influence of Augustine is obviously one of the most potent and productive impulses
at work.
A succinct characterization of Augustine is impossible, not only because his
thought is so extraordinarily complex and his expository method so incurably
digressive, but also because throughout his entire career there were lively tensions
and massive prejudices in his heart and head. His doctrine of God holds the
Plotinian notions of divine unity and remotion in tension with the Biblical emphasis
upon the sovereign God’s active involvement in creation and redemption. For all his
devotion to Jesus Christ, this theology was never adequately Christocentric, and
this reflects itself in many ways in his practical conception of the Christian life. He
did not invent the doctrines of original sin and seminal transmission of guilt but he
did set them as cornerstones in his “system,” matching them with a doctrine of
infant baptism which cancels, ex opere operato, birth sin and hereditary guilt. He
never wearied of celebrating God’s abundant mercy and grace--but he was also fully
persuaded that the vast majority of mankind are condemned to a wholly just and
appalling damnation. He never denied the reality of human freedom and never
allowed the excuse of human irresponsibility before God--but against all detractors
of the primacy of God’s grace, he vigorously insisted on both double predestination
and irresistible grace.
For all this the Catholic Church was fully justified in giving Augustine his
aptest title, Doctor Gratiae. The central theme in all Augustine’s writings is the
sovereign God of grace and the sovereign grace of God. Grace, for Augustine, is
God’s freedom to act without any external necessity whatsoever--to act in love
beyond human understanding or control; to act in creation, judgment, and
redemption; to give his Son freely as Mediator and Redeemer; to endue the Church
with the indwelling power and guidance of the Holy Spirit; to shape the destinies of
all creation and the ends of the two human societies, the “city of earth” and the “city
of God.” Grace is God’s unmerited love and favor, prevenient and occurrent. It
touches man’s inmost heart and will. It guides and impels the pilgrimage of those
called to be faithful. It draws and raises the soul to repentance, faith, and praise. It
transforms the human will so that it is capable of doing good. It relieves man’s
religious anxiety by forgiveness and the gift of hope. It establishes the ground of
Christian humility by abolishing the ground of human pride. God’s grace became
incarnate in Jesus Christ, and it remains immanent in the Holy Spirit in the
Church.
Augustine had no system--but he did have a stable and coherent Christian
outlook. Moreover, he had an unwearied, ardent concern: man’s salvation from his
hopeless plight, through the gracious action of God’s redeeming love. To understand
and interpret this was his one endeavor, and to this task he devoted his entire
genius.
He was, of course, by conscious intent and profession, a Christian theologian,
a pastor and teacher in the Christian community. And yet it has come about that
his contributions to the larger heritage of Western civilization are hardly less
important than his services to the Christian Church. He was far and away the best-if not the very first--psychologist in the ancient world. His observations and
descriptions of human motives and emotions, his depth analyses of will and thought
in their interaction, and his exploration of the inner nature of the human self--these
have established one of the main traditions in European conceptions of human
nature, even down to our own time. Augustine is an essential source for both
contemporary depth psychology and existentialist philosophy. His view of the shape
and process of human history has been more influential than any other single
source in the development of the Western tradition which regards political order as
inextricably involved in moral order. His conception of a societas as a community
identified and held together by its loyalties and love has become an integral part of
the general tradition of Christian social teaching and the Christian vision of
“Christendom.” His metaphysical explorations of the problems of being, the
character of evil, the relation of faith and knowledge, of will and reason, of time and
eternity, of creation and cosmic order, have not ceased to animate and enrich
various philosophic reflections throughout the succeeding centuries. At the same
time the hallmark of the Augustinian philosophy is its insistent demand that
reflective thought issue in practical consequence; no contemplation of the end of life
suffices unless it discovers the means by which men are brought to their proper
goals. In sum, Augustine is one of the very few men who simply cannot be ignored or
depreciated in any estimate of Western civilization without serious distortion and
impoverishment of one’s historical and religious understanding.
In the space of some forty-four years, from his conversion in Milan (A.D. 386)
to his death in Hippo Regius (A.D. 430), Augustine wrote--mostly at dictation--a
vast sprawling library of books, sermons, and letters, the remains of which (in the
Benedictine edition of St. Maur) fill fourteen volumes as they are reprinted in
Migne, Patrologiae cursus completus, Series Latina (Vols. 32-45). In his old age,
Augustine reviewed his authorship (in the Retractations) and has left us a critical
review of ninety-three of his works he judged most important. Even a cursory glance
at them shows how enormous was his range of interest. Yet almost everything he
wrote was in response to a specific problem or an actual crisis in the immediate
situation. One may mark off significant developments in his thought over this
twoscore years, but one can hardly miss the fundamental consistency in his entire
life’s work. He was never interested in writing a systematic summa theologica, and
would have been incapable of producing a balanced digest of his multifaceted
teaching. Thus, if he is to be read wisely, he must be read widely--and always in
context, with due attention to the specific aim in view in each particular treatise.
For the general reader who wishes to approach Augustine as directly as
possible, however, it is a useful and fortunate thing that at the very beginning of his
Christian ministry and then again at the very climax of it, Augustine set himself to
focus his experience and thought into what were, for him, summings up. The result
of the first effort is the Confessions, which is his most familiar and widely read
work. The second is in the Enchiridion, written more than twenty years later. In the
Confessions, he stands on the threshold of his career in the Church. In the
Enchiridion, he stands forth as triumphant champion of orthodox Christianity. In
these two works--the nearest equivalent to summation in the whole of the
Augustinian corpus--we can find all his essential themes and can sample the
characteristic flavor of his thought.
Augustine was baptized by Ambrose at Milan during Eastertide, A.D. 387. A
short time later his mother, Monica, died at Ostia on the journey back to Africa. A
year later, Augustine was back in Roman Africa living in a monastery at Tagaste,
his native town. In 391, he was ordained presbyter in the church of Hippo Regius (a
small coastal town nearby). Here in 395--with grave misgivings on his own part (cf.
Sermon CCCLV, 2) and in actual violation of the eighth canon of Nicea (cf. Mansi,
Sacrorum conciliorum, II, 671, and IV, 1167)--he was consecrated assistant bishop
to the aged Valerius, whom he succeeded the following year. Shortly after he
entered into his episcopal duties he began his Confessions, completing them
probably in 398 (cf. De Labriolle, I, vi (see Bibliography), and di Capua, Miscellanea
Agostiniana, II, 678).
Augustine had a complex motive for undertaking such a self-analysis.1 His
pilgrimage of grace had led him to a most unexpected outcome. Now he felt a
compelling need to retrace the crucial turnings of the way by which he had come.
And since he was sure that it was God’s grace that had been his prime mover on
that way, it was a spontaneous expression of his heart that cast his self-recollection
into the form of a sustained prayer to God.
The Confessions are not Augustine’s autobiography. They are, instead, a
deliberate effort, in the permissive atmosphere of God’s felt presence, to recall those
crucial episodes and events in which he can now see and celebrate the mysterious
actions of God’s prevenient and provident grace. Thus he follows the windings of his
memory as it re-presents the upheavals of his youth and the stages of his disorderly
quest for wisdom. He omits very much indeed. Yet he builds his successive climaxes
so skillfully that the denouement in Book VIII is a vivid and believable convergence
of influences, reconstructed and “placed” with consummate dramatic skill. We see
how Cicero’s Hortensius first awakened his thirst for wisdom, how the Manicheans
deluded him with their promise of true wisdom, and how the Academics upset his
confidence in certain knowledge--how they loosed him from the dogmatism of the
Manicheans only to confront him with the opposite threat that all knowledge is
uncertain. He shows us (Bk. V, Ch. X, 19) that almost the sole cause of his
1He had no models before him, for such earlier writings as the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius and
the autobiographical sections in Hilary of Poitiers and Cyprian of Carthage have only to be compared
with the Confessions to see how different they are.
intellectual perplexity in religion was his stubborn, materialistic prejudice that if
God existed he had to exist in a body, and thus had to have extension, shape, and
finite relation. He remembers how the “Platonists” rescued him from this
“materialism” and taught him how to think of spiritual and immaterial reality--and
so to become able to conceive of God in non-dualistic categories. We can follow him
in his extraordinarily candid and plain report of his Plotinian ecstasy, and his
momentary communion with the One (Book VII). The “Platonists” liberated him
from error, but they could not loose him from the fetters of incontinence. Thus, with
a divided will, he continues to seek a stable peace in the Christian faith while he
stubbornly clings to his pride and appetence.
In Book VIII, Augustine piles up a series of remembered incidents that
inflamed his desire to imitate those who already seemed to have gained what he had
so long been seeking. First of all, there had been Ambrose, who embodied for
Augustine the dignity of Christian learning and the majesty of the authority of the
Christian Scriptures. Then Simplicianus tells him the moving story of Victorinus (a
more famous scholar than Augustine ever hoped to be), who finally came to the
baptismal font in Milan as humbly as any other catechumen. Then, from
Ponticianus he hears the story of Antony and about the increasing influence of the
monastic calling. The story that stirs him most, perhaps, relates the dramatic
conversion of the two “special agents of the imperial police” in the garden at Treves-two unlikely prospects snatched abruptly from their worldly ways to the monastic
life.
He makes it plain that these examples forced his own feelings to an
intolerable tension. His intellectual perplexities had become resolved; the virtue of
continence had been consciously preferred; there was a strong desire for the storms
of his breast to be calmed; he longed to imitate these men who had done what he
could not and who were enjoying the peace he longed for.
But the old habits were still strong and he could not muster a full act of the
whole will to strike them down. Then comes the scene in the Milanese garden which
is an interesting parallel to Ponticianus’ story about the garden at Treves. The long
struggle is recapitulated in a brief moment; his will struggles against and within
itself. The trivial distraction of a child’s voice, chanting, “Tolle, lege,” precipitates
the resolution of the conflict. There is a radical shift in mood and will, he turns
eagerly to the chance text in Rom. 13:13--and a new spirit rises in his heart.
After this radical change, there was only one more past event that had to be
relived before his personal history could be seen in its right perspective. This was
the death of his mother and the severance of his strongest earthly tie. Book IX tells
us this story. The climactic moment in it is, of course, the vision at Ostia where
mother and son are uplifted in an ecstasy that parallels--but also differs
significantly from--the Plotinian vision of Book VII. After this, the mother dies and
the son who had loved her almost too much goes on alone, now upheld and led by a
greater and a wiser love.
We can observe two separate stages in Augustine’s “conversion.” The first
was the dramatic striking off of the slavery of incontinence and pride which had so
long held him from decisive commitment to the Christian faith. The second was the
development of an adequate understanding of the Christian faith itself and his
baptismal confession of Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour. The former was achieved
in the Milanese garden. The latter came more slowly and had no “dramatic
moment.” The dialogues that Augustine wrote at Cassiciacum the year following his
conversion show few substantial signs of a theological understanding, decisively or
distinctively Christian. But by the time of his ordination to the presbyterate we can
see the basic lines of a comprehensive and orthodox theology firmly laid out.
Augustine neglects to tell us (in 398) what had happened in his thought between
385 and 391. He had other questions, more interesting to him, with which to
wrestle.
One does not read far in the Confessions before he recognizes that the term
“confess” has a double range of meaning. On the one hand, it obviously refers to the
free acknowledgment, before God, of the truth one knows about oneself--and this
obviously meant, for Augustine, the “confession of sins.” But, at the same time, and
more importantly, confiteri means to acknowledge, to God, the truth one knows
about God. To confess, then, is to praise and glorify God; it is an exercise in selfknowledge and true humility in the atmosphere of grace and reconciliation.
Thus the Confessions are by no means complete when the personal history is
concluded at the end of Book IX. There are two more closely related problems to be
explored: First, how does the finite self find the infinite God (or, how is it found of
him?)? And, secondly, how may we interpret God’s action in producing this created
world in which such personal histories and revelations do occur? Book X, therefore,
is an exploration of man’s way to God, a way which begins in sense experience but
swiftly passes beyond it, through and beyond the awesome mystery of memory, to
the ineffable encounter between God and the soul in man’s inmost subject-self. But
such a journey is not complete until the process is reversed and man has looked as
deeply as may be into the mystery of creation, on which all our history and
experience depend. In Book XI, therefore, we discover why time is such a problem
and how “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” is the basic
formula of a massive Christian metaphysical world view. In Books XII and XIII,
Augustine elaborates, in loving patience and with considerable allegorical license,
the mysteries of creation--exegeting the first chapter of Genesis, verse by verse,
until he is able to relate the whole round of creation to the point where we can view
the drama of God’s enterprise in human history on the vast stage of the cosmos
itself. The Creator is the Redeemer! Man’s end and the beginning meet at a single
point!
The Enchiridion is a briefer treatise on the grace of God and represents
Augustine’s fully matured theological perspective--after the magnificent
achievements of the De Trinitate and the greater part of the De civitate Dei, and
after the tremendous turmoil of the Pelagian controversy in which the doctrine of
grace was the exact epicenter. Sometime in 421, Augustine received a request from
one Laurentius, a Christian layman who was the brother of the tribune Dulcitius
(for whom Augustine wrote the De octo dulcitii quaestionibus in 423-425). This
Laurentius wanted a handbook (enchiridion) that would sum up the essential
Christian teaching in the briefest possible form. Augustine dryly comments that the
shortest complete summary of the Christian faith is that God is to be served by man
in faith, hope, and love. Then, acknowledging that this answer might indeed be too
brief, he proceeds to expand it in an essay in which he tries unsuccessfully to
subdue his natural digressive manner by imposing on it a patently artificial
schematism. Despite its awkward form, however, the Enchiridion is one of the most
important of all of Augustine’s writings, for it is a conscious effort of the theological
magistrate of the Western Church to stand on final ground of testimony to the
Christian truth.
For his framework, Augustine chooses the Apostles’ Creed and the Lord’s
Prayer. The treatise begins, naturally enough, with a discussion of God’s work in
creation. Augustine makes a firm distinction between the comparatively
unimportant knowledge of nature and the supremely important acknowledgment of
the Creator of nature. But creation lies under the shadow of sin and evil and
Augustine reviews his famous (and borrowed!) doctrine of the privative character of
evil. From this he digresses into an extended comment on error and lying as special
instances of evil. He then returns to the hopeless case of fallen man, to which God’s
wholly unmerited grace has responded in the incarnation of the Mediator and
Redeemer, Jesus Christ. The questions about the appropriation of God’s grace lead
naturally to a discussion of baptism and justification, and beyond these, to the Holy
Spirit and the Church. Augustine then sets forth the benefits of redeeming grace
and weighs the balance between faith and good works in the forgiven sinner. But
redemption looks forward toward resurrection, and Augustine feels he must devote
a good deal of energy and subtle speculation to the questions about the manner and
mode of the life everlasting. From this he moves on to the problem of the destiny of
the wicked and the mystery of predestination. Nor does he shrink from these grim
topics; indeed, he actually expands some of his most rigid ideas of God’s ruthless
justice toward the damned. Having thus treated the Christian faith and Christian
hope, he turns in a too-brief concluding section to the virtue of Christian love as the
heart of the Christian life. This, then, is the “handbook” on faith, hope, and love
which he hopes Laurence will put to use and not leave as “baggage on his
bookshelf.”
Taken together, the Confessions and the Enchiridion give us two very
important vantage points from which to view the Augustinian perspective as a
whole, since they represent both his early and his mature formulation. From them,
we can gain a competent--though by no means complete--introduction to the heart
and mind of this great Christian saint and sage. There are important differences
between the two works, and these ought to be noted by the careful reader. But all
the main themes of Augustinian Christianity appear in them, and through them we
can penetrate to its inner dynamic core.
There is no need to justify a new English translation of these books, even
though many good ones already exist. Every translation is, at best, only an
approximation--and an interpretation too. There is small hope for a translation to
end all translations. Augustine’s Latin is, for the most part, comparatively easy to
read. One feels directly the force of his constant wordplay, the artful balancing of
his clauses, his laconic use of parataxis, and his deliberate involutions of thought
and word order. He was always a Latin rhetor; artifice of style had come to be
second nature with him--even though the Latin scriptures were powerful modifiers
of his classical literary patterns. But it is a very tricky business to convey such a
Latin style into anything like modern English without considerable violence one
way or the other. A literal rendering of the text is simply not readable English. And
this falsifies the text in another way, for Augustine’s Latin is eminently readable!
On the other side, when one resorts to the unavoidable paraphrase there is always
the open question as to the point beyond which the thought itself is being recast. It
has been my aim and hope that these translations will give the reader an accurate
medium of contact with Augustine’s temper and mode of argumentation. There has
been no thought of trying to contrive an English equivalent for his style. If
Augustine’s ideas come through this translation with positive force and clarity,
there can be no serious reproach if it is neither as eloquent nor as elegant as
Augustine in his own language. In any case, those who will compare this translation
with the others will get at least a faint notion of how complex and truly brilliant the
original is!
The sensitive reader soon recognizes that Augustine will not willingly be
inspected from a distance or by a neutral observer. In all his writings there is a
strong concern and moving power to involve his reader in his own process of inquiry
and perplexity. There is a manifest eagerness to have him share in his own flashes
of insight and his sudden glimpses of God’s glory. Augustine’s style is deeply
personal; it is therefore idiomatic, and often colloquial. Even in his knottiest
arguments, or in the labyrinthine mazes of his allegorizing (e.g., Confessions, Bk.
XIII, or Enchiridion, XVIII), he seeks to maintain contact with his reader in
genuine respect and openness. He is never content to seek and find the truth in
solitude. He must enlist his fellows in seeing and applying the truth as given. He is
never the blind fideist; even in the face of mystery, there is a constant reliance on
the limited but real powers of human reason, and a constant striving for clarity and
intelligibility. In this sense, he was a consistent follower of his own principle of
“Christian Socratism,” developed in the De Magistro and the De catechezandis
rudibus.
Even the best of Augustine’s writing bears the marks of his own time and
there is much in these old books that is of little interest to any but the specialist.
There are many stones of stumbling in them for the modern secularist--and even for
the modern Christian! Despite all this, it is impossible to read him with any
attention at all without recognizing how his genius and his piety burst through the
limitations of his times and his language--and even his English translations! He
grips our hearts and minds and enlists us in the great enterprise to which his whole
life was devoted: the search for and the celebration of God’s grace and glory by
which his faithful children are sustained and guided in their pilgrimage toward the
true Light of us all.
The most useful critical text of the Confessions is that of Pierre de Labriolle
(fifth edition, Paris, 1950). I have collated this with the other major critical editions:
Martin Skutella, S. Aureli Augustini Confessionum Libri Tredecim (Leipzig, 1934)-itself a recension of the Corpus Scriptorum ecclesiasticorum Latinorum XXXIII text
of Pius Knöll (Vienna, 1896)--and the second edition of John Gibb and William
Montgomery (Cambridge, 1927).
There are two good critical texts of the Enchiridion and I have collated them:
Otto Scheel, Augustins Enchiridion (zweite Auflage, Tübingen, 1930), and Jean
Rivière, Enchiridion in the Bibliothèque Augustinienne, Œuvres de S. Augustin,
première série: Opuscules, IX: Exposés généraux de la foi (Paris, 1947).
It remains for me to express my appreciation to the General Editors of this
Library for their constructive help; to Professor Hollis W. Huston, who read the
entire manuscript and made many valuable suggestions; and to Professor William
A. Irwin, who greatly aided with parts of the Enchiridion. These men share the
credit for preventing many flaws, but naturally no responsibility for those
remaining. Professors Raymond P. Morris, of the Yale Divinity School Library;
Robert Beach, of the Union Theological Seminary Library; and Decherd Turner, of
our Bridwell Library here at Southern Methodist University, were especially
generous in their bibliographical assistance. Last, but not least, Mrs. Hollis W.
Huston and my wife, between them, managed the difficult task of putting the
results of this project into fair copy. To them all I am most grateful.
AUGUSTINE’S TESTIMONY CONCERNING
THE CONFESSIONS
I. THE Retractations, II, 6 (A.D. 427)
1. My Confessions, in thirteen books, praise the righteous and good God as
they speak either of my evil or good, and they are meant to excite men’s minds and
affections toward him. At least as far as I am concerned, this is what they did for me
when they were being written and they still do this when read. What some people
think of them is their own affair [ipse viderint]; but I do know that they have given
pleasure to many of my brethren and still do so. The first through the tenth books
were written about myself; the other three about Holy Scripture, from what is
written there, In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth,2 even as far as
the reference to the Sabbath rest.3
2. In Book IV, when I confessed my soul’s misery over the death of a friend
and said that our soul had somehow been made one out of two souls, “But it may
have been that I was afraid to die, lest he should then die wholly whom I had so
greatly loved” (Ch. VI, 11)--this now seems to be more a trivial declamation than a
serious confession, although this inept expression may be tempered somewhat by
the “may have been” [forte] which I added. And in Book XIII what I said--“The
firmament was made between the higher waters (and superior) and the lower (and
inferior) waters”--was said without sufficient thought. In any case, the matter is
very obscure.
This work begins thus: “Great art thou, O Lord.”
II. De Dono Perseverantiae, XX, 53 (A.D. 428)
Which of my shorter works has been more widely known or given greater
pleasure than the [thirteen] books of my Confessions? And, although I published
them long before the Pelagian heresy had even begun to be, it is plain that in them I
said to my God, again and again, “Give what thou commandest and command what
thou wilt.” When these words of mine were repeated in Pelagius’ presence at Rome
by a certain brother of mine (an episcopal colleague), he could not bear them and
contradicted him so excitedly that they nearly came to a quarrel. Now what, indeed,
does God command, first and foremost, except that we believe in him? This faith,
therefore, he himself gives; so that it is well said to him, “Give what thou
commandest.” Moreover, in those same books, concerning my account of my
conversion when God turned me to that faith which I was laying waste with a very
wretched and wild verbal assault,4 do you not remember how the narration shows
that I was given as a gift to the faithful and daily tears of my mother, who had been
promised that I should not perish? I certainly declared there that God by his grace
turns men’s wills to the true faith when they are not only averse to it, but actually
adverse. As for the other ways in which I sought God’s aid in my growth in
perseverance, you either know or can review them as you wish (PL, 45, c. 1025).
III. Letter to Darius (A.D. 429)
2Gen. 1:1.
3Gen. 2:2.
4Notice the echo here of Acts 9:1.
Thus, my son, take the books of my Confessions and use them as a good man
should--not superficially, but as a Christian in Christian charity. Here see me as I
am and do not praise me for more than I am. Here believe nothing else about me
than my own testimony. Here observe what I have been in myself and through
myself. And if something in me pleases you, here praise Him with me--him whom I
desire to be praised on my account and not myself. “For it is he that hath made us
and not we ourselves.”5 Indeed, we were ourselves quite lost; but he who made us,
remade us [sed qui fecit, refecit]. As, then, you find me in these pages, pray for me
that I shall not fail but that I may go on to be perfected. Pray for me, my son, pray
for me! (Epist. CCXXXI, PL, 33, c. 1025).
5Ps. 100:3.
The Confessions of Saint Augustine
BOOK ONE
In God’s searching presence, Augustine undertakes to plumb the depths of his
memory to trace the mysterious pilgrimage of grace which his life has been--and to
praise God for his constant and omnipotent grace. In a mood of sustained prayer, he
recalls what he can of his infancy, his learning to speak, and his childhood
experiences in school. He concludes with a paean of grateful praise to God.
CHAPTER I
1. “Great art thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is thy power, and
infinite is thy wisdom.”6 And man desires to praise thee, for he is a part of thy
creation; he bears his mortality about with him and carries the evidence of his sin
and the proof that thou dost resist the proud. Still he desires to praise thee, this
man who is only a small part of thy creation. Thou hast prompted him, that he
should delight to praise thee, for thou hast made us for thyself and restless is our
heart until it comes to rest in thee. Grant me, O Lord, to know and understand
whether first to invoke thee or to praise thee; whether first to know thee or call
upon thee. But who can invoke thee, knowing thee not? For he who knows thee not
may invoke thee as another than thou art. It may be that we should invoke thee in
order that we may come to know thee. But “how shall they call on him in whom they
have not believed? Or how shall they believe without a preacher?”7 Now, “they shall
praise the Lord who seek him,”8 for “those who seek shall find him,”9 and, finding
him, shall praise him. I will seek thee, O Lord, and call upon thee. I call upon thee,
O Lord, in my faith which thou hast given me, which thou hast inspired in me
through the humanity of thy Son, and through the ministry of thy preacher.10
CHAPTER II
2. And how shall I call upon my God--my God and my Lord? For when I call
on him I ask him to come into me. And what place is there in me into which my God
can come? How could God, the God who made both heaven and earth, come into me?
Is there anything in me, O Lord my God, that can contain thee? Do even the heaven
and the earth, which thou hast made, and in which thou didst make me, contain
thee? Is it possible that, since without thee nothing would be which does exist, thou
didst make it so that whatever exists has some capacity to receive thee? Why, then,
do I ask thee to come into me, since I also am and could not be if thou wert not in
me? For I am not, after all, in hell--and yet thou art there too, for “if I go down into
6Cf. Ps. 145:3 and Ps. 147:5.
7Rom. 10:14.
8Ps. 22:26.
9Matt. 7:7.
10A reference to Bishop Ambrose of Milan; see Bk. V, Ch. XIII; Bk. VIII, Ch. 11, 3.
hell, thou art there.” 11 Therefore I would not exist--I would simply not be at all-unless I exist in thee, from whom and by whom and in whom all things are. Even so,
Lord; even so. Where do I call thee to, when I am already in thee? Or from whence
wouldst thou come into me? Where, beyond heaven and earth, could I go that there
my God might come to me--he who hath said, “I fill heaven and earth”?12
CHAPTER III
3. Since, then, thou dost fill the heaven and earth, do they contain thee? Or,
dost thou fill and overflow them, because they cannot contain thee? And where dost
thou pour out what remains of thee after heaven and earth are full? Or, indeed, is
there no need that thou, who dost contain all things, shouldst be contained by any,
since those things which thou dost fill thou fillest by containing them? For the
vessels which thou dost fill do not confine thee, since even if they were broken, thou
wouldst not be poured out. And, when thou art poured out on us, thou art not
thereby brought down; rather, we are uplifted. Thou art not scattered; rather, thou
dost gather us together. But when thou dost fill all things, dost thou fill them with
thy whole being? Or, since not even all things together could contain thee
altogether, does any one thing contain a single part, and do all things contain that
same part at the same time? Do singulars contain thee singly? Do greater things
contain more of thee, and smaller things less? Or, is it not rather that thou art
wholly present everywhere, yet in such a way that nothing contains thee wholly?
CHAPTER IV
4. What, therefore, is my God? What, I ask, but the Lord God? “For who is
Lord but the Lord himself, or who is God besides our God?”13 Most high, most
excellent, most potent, most omnipotent; most merciful and most just; most secret
and most truly present; most beautiful and most strong; stable, yet not supported;
unchangeable, yet changing all things; never new, never old; making all things new,
yet bringing old age upon the proud, and they know it not; always working, ever at
rest; gathering, yet needing nothing; sustaining, pervading, and protecting;
creating, nourishing, and developing; seeking, and yet possessing all things. Thou
dost love, but without passion; art jealous, yet free from care; dost repent without
remorse; art angry, yet remainest serene. Thou changest thy ways, leaving thy
plans unchanged; thou recoverest what thou hast never really lost. Thou art never
in need but still thou dost rejoice at thy gains; art never greedy, yet demandest
dividends. Men pay more than is required so that thou dost become a debtor; yet
who can possess anything at all which is not already thine? Thou owest men
nothing, yet payest out to them as if in debt to thy creature, and when thou dost
cancel debts thou losest nothing thereby. Yet, O my God, my life, my holy Joy, what
is this that I have said? What can any man say when he speaks of thee? But woe to
them that keep silence--since even those who say most are dumb.
CHAPTER V
5. Who shall bring me to rest in thee? Who will send thee into my heart so to
overwhelm it that my sins shall be blotted out and I may embrace thee, my only
11Ps. 139:8.
12Jer. 23:24.
13Cf. Ps. 18:31.
good? What art thou to me? Have mercy that I may speak. What am I to thee that
thou shouldst command me to love thee, and if I do it not, art angry and threatenest
vast misery? Is it, then, a trifling sorrow not to love thee? It is not so to me. Tell me,
by thy mercy, O Lord, my God, what thou art to me. “Say to my soul, I am your
salvation.”14 So speak that I may hear. Behold, the ears of my heart are before thee,
O Lord; open them and “say to my soul, I am your salvation.” I will hasten after that
voice, and I will lay hold upon thee. Hide not thy face from me. Even if I die, let me
see thy face lest I die.
6. The house of my soul is too narrow for thee to come in to me; let it be
enlarged by thee. It is in ruins; do thou restore it. There is much about it which
must offend thy eyes; I confess and know it. But who will cleanse it? Or, to whom
shall I cry but to thee? “Cleanse thou me from my secret faults,” O Lord, “and keep
back thy servant from strange sins.”15 “I believe, and therefore do I speak.”16 But
thou, O Lord, thou knowest. Have I not confessed my transgressions unto thee, O
my God; and hast thou not put away the iniquity of my heart?17 I do not contend in
judgment with thee,18 who art truth itself; and I would not deceive myself, lest my
iniquity lie even to itself. I do not, therefore, contend in judgment with thee, for “if
thou, Lord, shouldst mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?”19
CHAPTER VI
7. Still, dust and ashes as I am, allow me to speak before thy mercy. Allow me
to speak, for, behold, it is to thy mercy that I speak and not to a man who scorns me.
Yet perhaps even thou mightest scorn me; but when thou dost turn and attend to
me, thou wilt have mercy upon me. For what do I wish to say, O Lord my God, but
that I know not whence I came hither into this life-in-death. Or should I call it
death-in-life? I do not know. And yet the consolations of thy mercy have sustained
me from the very beginning, as I have heard from my fleshly parents, from whom
and in whom thou didst form me in time--for I cannot myself remember. Thus even
though they sustained me by the consolation of woman’s milk, neither my mother
nor my nurses filled their own breasts but thou, through them, didst give me the
food of infancy according to thy ordinance and thy bounty which underlie all things.
For it was thou who didst cause me not to want more than thou gavest and it was
thou who gavest to those who nourished me the will to give me what thou didst give
them. And they, by an instinctive affection, were willing to give me what thou hadst
supplied abundantly. It was, indeed, good for them that my good should come
through them, though, in truth, it was not from them but by them. For it is from
thee, O God, that all good things come--and from my God is all my health. This is
what I have since learned, as thou hast made it abundantly clear by all that I have
seen thee give, both to me and to those around me. For even at the very first I knew
how to suck, to lie quiet when I was full, and to cry when in pain--nothing more.
8. Afterward I began to laugh--at first in my sleep, then when waking. For
this I have been told about myself and I believe it--though I cannot remember it--for
I see the same things in other infants. Then, little by little, I realized where I was
and wished to tell my wishes to those who might satisfy them, but I could not! For
14Ps. 35:3.
15Cf. Ps. 19:12, 13.
16Ps. 116:10.
17Cf. Ps. 32:5.
18Cf. Job 9:2.
19Ps. 130:3.
my wants were inside me, and they were outside, and they could not by any power
of theirs come into my soul. And so I would fling my arms and legs about and cry,
making the few and feeble gestures that I could, though indeed the signs were not
much like what I inwardly desired and when I was not satisfied--either from not
being understood or because what I got was not good for me--I grew indignant that
my elders were not subject to me and that those on whom I actually had no claim
did not wait on me as slaves--and I avenged myself on them by crying. That infants
are like this, I have myself been able to learn by watching them; and they, though
they knew me not, have shown me better what I was like than my own nurses who
knew me.
9. And, behold, my infancy died long ago, but I am still living. But thou, O
Lord, whose life is forever and in whom nothing dies--since before the world was,
indeed, before all that can be called “before,” thou wast, and thou art the God and
Lord of all thy creatures; and with thee abide all the stable causes of all unstable
things, the unchanging sources of all changeable things, and the eternal reasons of
all non-rational and temporal things--tell me, thy suppliant, O God, tell me, O
merciful One, in pity tell a pitiful creature whether my infancy followed yet an
earlier age of my life that had already passed away before it. Was it such another
age which I spent in my mother’s womb? For something of that sort has been
suggested to me, and I have myself seen pregnant women. But what, O God, my
Joy, preceded that period of life? Was I, indeed, anywhere, or anybody? No one can
explain these things to me, neither father nor mother, nor the experience of others,
nor my own memory. Dost thou laugh at me for asking such things? Or dost thou
command me to praise and confess unto thee only what I know?
10. I give thanks to thee, O Lord of heaven and earth, giving praise to thee for
that first being and my infancy of which I have no memory. For thou hast granted to
man that he should come to self-knowledge through the knowledge of others, and
that he should believe many things about himself on the authority of the
womenfolk. Now, clearly, I had life and being; and, as my infancy closed, I was
already learning signs by which my feelings could be communicated to others.
Whence could such a creature come but from thee, O Lord? Is any man
skillful enough to have fashioned himself? Or is there any other source from which
being and life could flow into us, save this, that thou, O Lord, hast made us--thou
with whom being and life are one, since thou thyself art supreme being and
supreme life both together. For thou art infinite and in thee there is no change, nor
an end to this present day--although there is a sense in which it ends in thee since
all things are in thee and there would be no such thing as days passing away unless
thou didst sustain them. And since “thy years shall have no end,”20 thy years are an
ever-present day. And how many of ours and our fathers’ days have passed through
this thy day and have received from it what measure and fashion of being they had?
And all the days to come shall so receive and so pass away. “But thou art the
same”!21 And all the things of tomorrow and the days yet to come, and all of
yesterday and the days that are past, thou wilt gather into this thy day. What is it
to me if someone does not understand this? Let him still rejoice and continue to ask,
“What is this?” Let him also rejoice and prefer to seek thee, even if he fails to find
an answer, rather than to seek an answer and not find thee!
CHAPTER VII
20Ps. 102:27.
21Ps. 102:27.
11. “Hear me, O God! Woe to the sins of men!” When a man cries thus, thou
showest him mercy, for thou didst create the man but not the sin in him. Who
brings to remembrance the sins of my infancy? For in thy sight there is none free
from sin, not even the infant who has lived but a day upon this earth. Who brings
this to my remembrance? Does not each little one, in whom I now observe what I no
longer remember of myself? In what ways, in that time, did I sin? Was it that I cried
for the breast? If I should now so cry--not indeed for the breast, but for food suitable
to my condition--I should be most justly laughed at and rebuked. What I did then
deserved rebuke but, since I could not understand those who rebuked me, neither
custom nor common sense permitted me to be rebuked. As we grow we root out and
cast away from us such childish habits. Yet I have not seen anyone who is wise who
cast away the good when trying to purge the bad. Nor was it good, even in that time,
to strive to get by crying what, if it had been given me, would have been hurtful; or
to be bitterly indignant at those who, because they were older--not slaves, either,
but free--and wiser than I, would not indulge my capricious desires. Was it a good
thing for me to try, by struggling as hard as I could, to harm them for not obeying
me, even when it would have done me harm to have been obeyed? Thus, the infant’s
innocence lies in the weakness of his body and not in the infant mind. I have myself
observed a baby to be jealous, though it could not speak; it was livid as it watched
another infant at the breast.
Who is ignorant of this? Mothers and nurses tell us that they cure these
things by I know not what remedies. But is this innocence, when the fountain of
milk is flowing fresh and abundant, that another who needs it should not be allowed
to share it, even though he requires such nourishment to sustain his life? Yet we
look leniently on such things, not because they are not faults, or even small faults,
but because they will vanish as the years pass. For, although we allow for such
things in an infant, the same things could not be tolerated patiently in an adult.
12. Therefore, O Lord my God, thou who gavest life to the infant, and a body
which, as we see, thou hast furnished with senses, shaped with limbs, beautified
with form, and endowed with all vital energies for its well-being and health--thou
dost command me to praise thee for these things, to give thanks unto the Lord, and
to sing praise unto his name, O Most High.22 For thou art God, omnipotent and
good, even if thou hadst done no more than these things, which no other but thou
canst do--thou alone who madest all things fair and didst order everything
according to thy law.
I am loath to dwell on this part of my life of which, O Lord, I have no
remembrance, about which I must trust the word of others and what I can surmise
from observing other infants, even if such guesses are trustworthy. For it lies in the
deep murk of my forgetfulness and thus is like the period which I passed in my
mother’s womb. But if “I was conceived in iniquity, and in sin my mother nourished
me in her womb,”23 where, I pray thee, O my God, where, O Lord, or when was I,
thy servant, ever innocent? But see now, I pass over that period, for what have I to
do with a time from which I can recall no memories?
CHAPTER VIII
13. Did I not, then, as I grew out of infancy, come next to boyhood, or rather
did it not come to me and succeed my infancy? My infancy did not go away (for
where would it go?). It was simply no longer present; and I was no longer an infant
22Cf. Ps. 92:1.
23Cf. Ps. 51:5.
who could not speak, but now a chattering boy. I remember this, and I have since
observed how I learned to speak. My elders did not teach me words by rote, as they
taught me my letters afterward. But I myself, when I was unable to communicate
all I wished to say to whomever I wished by means of whimperings and grunts and
various gestures of my limbs (which I used to reinforce my demands), I myself
repeated the sounds already stored in my memory by the mind which thou, O my
God, hadst given me. When they called some thing by name and pointed it out while
they spoke, I saw it and realized that the thing they wished to indicate was called
by the name they then uttered. And what they meant was made plain by the
gestures of their bodies, by a kind of natural language, common to all nations, which
expresses itself through changes of countenance, glances of the eye, gestures and
intonations which indicate a disposition and attitude--either to seek or to possess, to
reject or to avoid. So it was that by frequently hearing words, in different phrases, I
gradually identified the objects which the words stood for and, having formed my
mouth to repeat these signs, I was thereby able to express my will. Thus I
exchanged with those about me the verbal signs by which we express our wishes
and advanced deeper into the stormy fellowship of human life, depending all the
while upon the authority of my parents and the behest of my elders.
CHAPTER IX
14. O my God! What miseries and mockeries did I then experience when it
was impressed on me that obedience to my teachers was proper to my boyhood
estate if I was to flourish in this world and distinguish myself in those tricks of
speech which would gain honor for me among men, and deceitful riches! To this end
I was sent to school to get learning, the value of which I knew not--wretch that I
was. Yet if I was slow to learn, I was flogged. For this was deemed praiseworthy by
our forefathers and many had passed before us in the same course, and thus had
built up the precedent for the sorrowful road on which we too were compelled to
travel, multiplying labor and sorrow upon the sons of Adam. About this time, O
Lord, I observed men praying to thee, and I learned from them to conceive thee-after my capacity for understanding as it was then--to be some great Being, who,
though not visible to our senses, was able to hear and help us. Thus as a boy I began
to pray to thee, my Help and my Refuge, and, in calling on thee, broke the bands of
my tongue. Small as I was, I prayed with no slight earnestness that I might not be
beaten at school. And when thou didst not heed me--for that would have been giving
me over to my folly--my elders and even my parents too, who wished me no ill,
treated my stripes as a joke, though they were then a great and grievous ill to me.
15. Is there anyone, O Lord, with a spirit so great, who cleaves to thee with
such steadfast affection (or is there even a kind of obtuseness that has the same
effect)--is there any man who, by cleaving devoutly to thee, is endowed with so great
a courage that he can regard indifferently those racks and hooks and other torture
weapons from which men throughout the world pray so fervently to be spared; and
can they scorn those who so greatly fear these torments, just as my parents were
amused at the torments with which our teachers punished us boys? For we were no
less afraid of our pains, nor did we beseech thee less to escape them. Yet, even so,
we were sinning by writing or reading or studying less than our assigned lessons.
For I did not, O Lord, lack memory or capacity, for, by thy will, I possessed
enough for my age. However, my mind was absorbed only in play, and I was
punished for this by those who were doing the same things themselves. But the
idling of our elders is called business; the idling of boys, though quite like it, is
punished by those same elders, and no one pities either the boys or the men. For
will any common sense observer agree that I was rightly punished as a boy for
playing ball--just because this hindered me from learning more quickly those
lessons by means of which, as a man, I could play at more shameful games? And did
he by whom I was beaten do anything different? When he was worsted in some
small controversy with a fellow teacher, he was more tormented by anger and envy
than I was when beaten by a playmate in the ball game.
CHAPTER X
16. And yet I sinned, O Lord my God, thou ruler and creator of all natural
things--but of sins only the ruler--I sinned, O Lord my God, in acting against the
precepts of my parents and of those teachers. For this learning which they wished
me to acquire--no matter what their motives were--I might have put to good account
afterward. I disobeyed them, not because I had chosen a better way, but from a
sheer love of play. I loved the vanity of victory, and I loved to have my ears tickled
with lying fables, which made them itch even more ardently, and a similar curiosity
glowed more and more in my eyes for the shows and sports of my elders. Yet those
who put on such shows are held in such high repute that almost all desire the same
for their children. They are therefore willing to have them beaten, if their childhood
games keep them from the studies by which their parents desire them to grow up to
be able to give such shows. Look down on these things with mercy, O Lord, and
deliver us who now call upon thee; deliver those also who do not call upon thee, that
they may call upon thee, and thou mayest deliver them.
CHAPTER XI
17. Even as a boy I had heard of eternal life promised to us through the
humility of the Lord our God, who came down to visit us in our pride, and I was
signed with the sign of his cross, and was seasoned with his salt even from the
womb of my mother, who greatly trusted in thee. Thou didst see, O Lord, how, once,
while I was still a child, I was suddenly seized with stomach pains and was at the
point of death--thou didst see, O my God, for even then thou wast my keeper, with
what agitation and with what faith I solicited from the piety of my mother and from
thy Church (which is the mother of us all) the baptism of thy Christ, my Lord and
my God. The mother of my flesh was much perplexed, for, with a heart pure in thy
faith, she was always in deep travail for my eternal salvation. If I had not quickly
recovered, she would have provided forthwith for my initiation and washing by thy
life-giving sacraments, confessing thee, O Lord Jesus, for the forgiveness of sins. So
my cleansing was deferred, as if it were inevitable that, if I should live, I would be
further polluted; and, further, because the guilt contracted by sin after baptism
would be still greater and more perilous.
Thus, at that time, I “believed” along with my mother and the whole
household, except my father. But he did not overcome the influence of my mother’s
piety in me, nor did he prevent my believing in Christ, although he had not yet
believed in him. For it was her desire, O my God, that I should acknowledge thee as
my Father rather than him. In this thou didst aid her to overcome her husband, to
whom, though his superior, she yielded obedience. In this way she also yielded
obedience to thee, who dost so command.
18. I ask thee, O my God, for I would gladly know if it be thy will, to what
good end my baptism was deferred at that time? Was it indeed for my good that the
reins were slackened, as it were, to encourage me in sin? Or, were they not
slackened? If not, then why is it still dinned into our ears on all sides, “Let him
alone, let him do as he pleases, for he is not yet baptized”? In the matter of bodily
health, no one says, “Let him alone; let him be worse wounded; for he is not yet
cured”! How much better, then, would it have been for me to have been cured at
once--and if thereafter, through the diligent care of friends and myself, my soul’s
restored health had been kept safe in thy keeping, who gave it in the first place!
This would have been far better, in truth. But how many and great the waves of
temptation which appeared to hang over me as I grew out of childhood! These were
foreseen by my mother, and she preferred that the unformed clay should be risked
to them rather than the clay molded after Christ’s image.24
CHAPTER XII
19. But in this time of childhood--which was far less dreaded for me than my
adolescence--I had no love of learning, and hated to be driven to it. Yet I was driven
to it just the same, and good was done for me, even though I did not do it well, for I
would not have learned if I had not been forced to it. For no man does well against
his will, even if what he does is a good thing. Neither did they who forced me do
well, but the good that was done me came from thee, my God. For they did not care
about the way in which I would use what they forced me to learn, and took it for
granted that it was to satisfy the inordinate desires of a rich beggary and a
shameful glory. But thou, Lord, by whom the hairs of our head are numbered, didst
use for my good the error of all who pushed me on to study: but my error in not
being willing to learn thou didst use for my punishment. And I--though so small a
boy yet so great a sinner--was not punished without warrant. Thus by the
instrumentality of those who did not do well, thou didst well for me; and by my own
sin thou didst justly punish me. For it is even as thou hast ordained: that every
inordinate affection brings on its own punishment.
CHAPTER XIII
20. But what were the causes for my strong dislike of Greek literature, which
I studied from my boyhood? Even to this day I have not fully understood them. For
Latin I loved exceedingly--not just the rudiments, but what the grammarians teach.
For those beginner’s lessons in reading, writing, and reckoning, I considered no less
a burden and pain than Greek. Yet whence came this, unless from the sin and
vanity of this life? For I was “but flesh, a wind that passeth away and cometh not
again.”25 Those first lessons were better, assuredly, because they were more certain,
and through them I acquired, and still retain, the power of reading what I find
written and of writing for myself what I will. In the other subjects, however, I was
compelled to learn about the wanderings of a certain Aeneas, oblivious of my own
wanderings, and to weep for Dido dead, who slew herself for love. And all this while
I bore with dry eyes my own wretched self dying to thee, O God, my life, in the
midst of these things.
21. For what can be more wretched than the wretch who has no pity upon
himself, who sheds tears over Dido, dead for the love of Aeneas, but who sheds no
tears for his own death in not loving thee, O God, light of my heart, and bread of the
inner mouth of my soul, O power that links together my mind with my inmost
thoughts? I did not love thee, and thus committed fornication against thee.26 Those
24In baptism which, Augustine believed, established the effigiem Christi in the human soul.
25Cf. Ps. 78:39.
26Cf. Ps. 72:27.
around me, also sinning, thus cried out: “Well done! Well done!” The friendship of
this world is fornication against thee; and “Well done! Well done!” is cried until one
feels ashamed not to show himself a man in this way. For my own condition I shed
no tears, though I wept for Dido, who “sought death at the sword’s point,”27 while I
myself was seeking the lowest rung of thy creation, having forsaken thee; earth
sinking back to earth again. And, if I had been forbidden to read these poems, I
would have grieved that I was not allowed to read what grieved me. This sort of
madness is considered more honorable and more fruitful learning than the
beginner’s course in which I learned to read and write.
22. But now, O my God, cry unto my soul, and let thy truth say to me: “Not
so, not so! That first learning was far better.” For, obviously, I would rather forget
the wanderings of Aeneas, and all such things, than forget how to write and read.
Still, over the entrance of the grammar school there hangs a veil. This is not so
much the sign of a covering for a mystery as a curtain for error. Let them exclaim
against me--those I no longer fear--while I confess to thee, my God, what my soul
desires, and let me find some rest, for in blaming my own evil ways I may come to
love thy holy ways. Neither let those cry out against me who buy and sell the
baubles of literature. For if I ask them if it is true, as the poet says, that Aeneas
once came to Carthage, the unlearned will reply that they do not know and the
learned will deny that it is true. But if I ask with what letters the name Aeneas is
written, all who have ever learned this will answer correctly, in accordance with the
conventional understanding men have agreed upon as to these signs. Again, if I
should ask which would cause the greatest inconvenience in our life, if it were
forgotten: reading and writing, or these poetical fictions, who does not see what
everyone would answer who had not entirely lost his own memory? I erred, then,
when as a boy I preferred those vain studies to these more profitable ones, or rather
loved the one and hated the other. “One and one are two, two and two are four”: this
was then a truly hateful song to me. But the wooden horse full of its armed soldiers,
and the holocaust of Troy, and the spectral image of Creusa were all a most
delightful--and vain--show!28
23. But why, then, did I dislike Greek learning, which was full of such tales?
For Homer was skillful in inventing such poetic fictions and is most sweetly wanton;
yet when I was a boy, he was most disagreeable to me. I believe that Virgil would
have the same effect on Greek boys as Homer did on me if they were forced to learn
him. For the tedium of learning a foreign language mingled gall into the sweetness
of those Grecian myths. For I did not understand a word of the language, and yet I
was driven with threats and cruel punishments to learn it. There was also a time
when, as an infant, I knew no Latin; but this I acquired without any fear or
tormenting, but merely by being alert to the blandishments of my nurses, the jests
of those who smiled on me, and the sportiveness of those who toyed with me. I
learned all this, indeed, without being urged by any pressure of punishment, for my
own heart urged me to bring forth its own fashioning, which I could not do except by
learning words: not from those who taught me but those who talked to me, into
whose ears I could pour forth whatever I could fashion. From this it is sufficiently
clear that a free curiosity is more effective in learning than a discipline based on
fear. Yet, by thy ordinance, O God, discipline is given to restrain the excesses of
freedom; this ranges from the ferule of the schoolmaster to the trials of the martyr
and has the effect of mingling for us a wholesome bitterness, which calls us back to
thee from the poisonous pleasures that first drew us from thee.
27Aeneid, VI, 457
28Cf. Aeneid, II.
CHAPTER XV
24. Hear my prayer, O Lord; let not my soul faint under thy discipline, nor let
me faint in confessing unto thee thy mercies, whereby thou hast saved me from all
my most wicked ways till thou shouldst become sweet to me beyond all the
allurements that I used to follow. Let me come to love thee wholly, and grasp thy
hand with my whole heart that thou mayest deliver me from every temptation, even
unto the last. And thus, O Lord, my King and my God, may all things useful that I
learned as a boy now be offered in thy service--let it be that for thy service I now
speak and write and reckon. For when I was learning vain things, thou didst impose
thy discipline upon me: and thou hast forgiven me my sin of delighting in those
vanities. In those studies I learned many a useful word, but these might have been
learned in matters not so vain; and surely that is the safe way for youths to walk in.
CHAPTER XVI
25. But woe unto you, O torrent of human custom! Who shall stay your
course? When will you ever run dry? How long will you carry down the sons of Eve
into that vast and hideous ocean, which even those who have the Tree (for an ark)29
can scarcely pass over? Do I not read in you the stories of Jove the thunderer--and
the adulterer?30 How could he be both? But so it says, and the sham thunder served
as a cloak for him to play at real adultery. Yet which of our gowned masters will
give a tempered hearing to a man trained in their own schools who cries out and
says: “These were Homer’s fictions; he transfers things human to the gods. I could
have wished that he would transfer divine things to us.”31 But it would have been
more true if he said, “These are, indeed, his fictions, but he attributed divine
attributes to sinful men, that crimes might not be accounted crimes, and that
whoever committed such crimes might appear to imitate the celestial gods and not
abandoned men.”
26. And yet, O torrent of hell, the sons of men are still cast into you, and they
pay fees for learning all these things. And much is made of it when this goes on in
the forum under the auspices of laws which give a salary over and above the fees.
And you beat against your rocky shore and roar: “Here words may be learned; here
you can attain the eloquence which is so necessary to persuade people to your way
of thinking; so helpful in unfolding your opinions.” Verily, they seem to argue that
we should never have understood these words, “golden shower,” “bosom,” “intrigue,”
“highest heavens,” and other such words, if Terence had not introduced a good-fornothing youth upon the stage, setting up a picture of Jove as his example of
lewdness and telling the tale
“Of Jove’s descending in a golden shower
Into Danae’s bosom...
With a woman to intrigue.”
29Lignum is a common metaphor for the cross; and it was often joined to the figure of Noah's ark, as
the means of safe transport from earth to heaven.
30This apostrophe to "the torrent of human custom" now switches its focus to the poets who
celebrated the philanderings of the gods; see De civ. Dei, II, vii-xi; IV, xxvi-xxviii.
31Probably a contemporary disciple of Cicero (or the Academics) whom Augustine had heard levy a
rather common philosopher's complaint against Olympian religion and the poetic myths about it. Cf.
De Labriolle, I, 21 (see Bibl.).
See how he excites himself to lust, as if by a heavenly authority, when he says:
“Great Jove,
Who shakes the highest heavens with his thunder;
Shall I, poor mortal man, not do the same?
I’ve done it, and with all my heart, I’m glad.”32
These words are not learned one whit more easily because of this vileness,
but through them the vileness is more boldly perpetrated. I do not blame the words,
for they are, as it were, choice and precious vessels, but I do deplore the wine of
error which was poured out to us by teachers already drunk. And, unless we also
drank we were beaten, without liberty of appeal to a sober judge. And yet, O my
God, in whose presence I can now with security recall this, I learned these things
willingly and with delight, and for it I was called a boy of good promise.
CHAPTER XVII
27. Bear with me, O my God, while I speak a little of those talents, thy gifts,
and of the follies on which I wasted them. For a lesson was given me that
sufficiently disturbed my soul, for in it there was both hope of praise and fear of
shame or stripes. The assignment was that I should declaim the words of Juno, as
she raged and sorrowed that she could not
“Bar off Italy
From all the approaches of the Teucrian king.”33
I had learned that Juno had never uttered these words. Yet we were compelled to
stray in the footsteps of these poetic fictions, and to turn into prose what the poet
had said in verse. In the declamation, the boy won most applause who most
strikingly reproduced the passions of anger and sorrow according to the “character”
of the persons presented and who clothed it all in the most suitable language. What
is it now to me, O my true Life, my God, that my declaiming was applauded above
that of many of my classmates and fellow students? Actually, was not all that smoke
and wind? Besides, was there nothing else on which I could have exercised my wit
and tongue? Thy praise, O Lord, thy praises might have propped up the tendrils of
my heart by thy Scriptures; and it would not have been dragged away by these
empty trifles, a shameful prey to the spirits of the air. For there is more than one
way in which men sacrifice to the fallen angels.
CHAPTER XVIII
28. But it was no wonder that I was thus carried toward vanity and was
estranged from thee, O my God, when men were held up as models to me who, when
relating a deed of theirs--not in itself evil--were covered with confusion if found
guilty of a barbarism or a solecism; but who could tell of their own licentiousness
and be applauded for it, so long as they did it in a full and ornate oration of wellchosen words. Thou seest all this, O Lord, and dost keep silence--“long-suffering,
and plenteous in mercy and truth”34 as thou art. Wilt thou keep silence forever?
32Terence, Eunuch., 584-591; quoted again in De civ. Dei, II, vii.
33Aeneid, I, 38.
34Cf. Ps. 103:8 and Ps. 86:15.
Even now thou drawest from that vast deep the soul that seeks thee and thirsts
after thy delight, whose “heart said unto thee, ‘I have sought thy face; thy face,
Lord, will I seek.’“35 For I was far from thy face in the dark shadows of passion. For
it is not by our feet, nor by change of place, that we either turn from thee or return
to thee. That younger son did not charter horses or chariots, or ships, or fly away on
visible wings, or journey by walking so that in the far country he might prodigally
waste all that thou didst give him when he set out. 36 A kind Father when thou
gavest; and kinder still when he returned destitute! To be wanton, that is to say, to
be darkened in heart--this is to be far from thy face.
29. Look down, O Lord God, and see patiently, as thou art wont to do, how
diligently the sons of men observe the conventional rules of letters and syllables,
taught them by those who learned their letters beforehand, while they neglect the
eternal rules of everlasting salvation taught by thee. They carry it so far that if he
who practices or teaches the established rules of pronunciation should speak
(contrary to grammatical usage) without aspirating the first syllable of “hominem”
[“ominem,” and thus make it “a ‘uman being”], he will offend men more than if he, a
human being, were to hate another human being contrary to thy commandments. It
is as if he should feel that there is an enemy who could be more destructive to
himself than that hatred which excites him against his fellow man; or that he could
destroy him whom he hates more completely than he destroys his own soul by this
same hatred. Now, obviously, there is no knowledge of letters more innate than the
writing of conscience--against doing unto another what one would not have done to
himself.
How mysterious thou art, who “dwellest on high” 37 in silence. O thou, the
only great God, who by an unwearied law hurlest down the penalty of blindness to
unlawful desire! When a man seeking the reputation of eloquence stands before a
human judge, while a thronging multitude surrounds him, and inveighs against his
enemy with the most fierce hatred, he takes most vigilant heed that his tongue does
not slip in a grammatical error, for example, and say inter hominibus [instead of
inter homines], but he takes no heed lest, in the fury of his spirit, he cut off a man
from his fellow men [ex hominibus].
30. These were the customs in the midst of which I was cast, an unhappy boy.
This was the wrestling arena in which I was more fearful of perpetrating a
barbarism than, having done so, of envying those who had not. These things I
declare and confess to thee, my God. I was applauded by those whom I then thought
it my whole duty to please, for I did not perceive the gulf of infamy wherein I was
cast away from thy eyes.
For in thy eyes, what was more infamous than I was already, since I
displeased even my own kind and deceived, with endless lies, my tutor, my masters
and parents--all from a love of play, a craving for frivolous spectacles, a stage-struck
restlessness to imitate what I saw in these shows? I pilfered from my parents’ cellar
and table, sometimes driven by gluttony, sometimes just to have something to give
to other boys in exchange for their baubles, which they were prepared to sell even
though they liked them as well as I. Moreover, in this kind of play, I often sought
dishonest victories, being myself conquered by the vain desire for pre-eminence.
And what was I so unwilling to endure, and what was it that I censured so violently
when I caught anyone, except the very things I did to others? And, when I was
myself detected and censured, I preferred to quarrel rather than to yield. Is this the
35Ps. 27:8.
36An interesting mixed reminiscence of Enneads, I, 5:8 and Luke 15:13-24.
37Ps. 123:1.
innocence of childhood? It is not, O Lord, it is not. I entreat thy mercy, O my God,
for these same sins as we grow older are transferred from tutors and masters; they
pass from nuts and balls and sparrows, to magistrates and kings, to gold and lands
and slaves, just as the rod is succeeded by more severe chastisements. It was, then,
the fact of humility in childhood that thou, O our King, didst approve as a symbol of
humility when thou saidst, “Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.”38
CHAPTER XIX
31. However, O Lord, to thee most excellent and most good, thou Architect
and Governor of the universe, thanks would be due thee, O our God, even if thou
hadst not willed that I should survive my boyhood. For I existed even then; I lived
and felt and was solicitous about my own well-being--a trace of that most
mysterious unity from whence I had my being.39 I kept watch, by my inner sense,
over the integrity of my outer senses, and even in these trifles and also in my
thoughts about trifles, I learned to take pleasure in truth. I was averse to being
deceived; I had a vigorous memory; I was gifted with the power of speech, was
softened by friendship, shunned sorrow, meanness, ignorance. Is not such an
animated creature as this wonderful and praiseworthy? But all these are gifts of my
God; I did not give them to myself. Moreover, they are good, and they all together
constitute myself. Good, then, is he that made me, and he is my God; and before him
will I rejoice exceedingly for every good gift which, even as a boy, I had. But herein
lay my sin, that it was not in him, but in his creatures--myself and the rest--that I
sought for pleasures, honors, and truths. And I fell thereby into sorrows, troubles,
and errors. Thanks be to thee, my joy, my pride, my confidence, my God--thanks be
to thee for thy gifts; but do thou preserve them in me. For thus wilt thou preserve
me; and those things which thou hast given me shall be developed and perfected,
and I myself shall be with thee, for from thee is my being.
38Matt. 19:14.
39Another Plotinian echo; cf. Enneads, III, 8:10.
BOOK TWO
He concentrates here on his sixteenth year, a year of idleness, lust, and adolescent
mischief. The memory of stealing some pears prompts a deep probing of the motives
and aims of sinful acts. “I became to myself a wasteland.”
CHAPTER I
1. I wish now to review in memory my past wickedness and the carnal
corruptions of my soul--not because I still love them, but that I may love thee, O my
God. For love of thy love I do this, recalling in the bitterness of self-examination my
wicked ways, that thou mayest grow sweet to me, thou sweetness without
deception! Thou sweetness happy and assured! Thus thou mayest gather me up out
of those fragments in which I was torn to pieces, while I turned away from thee, O
Unity, and lost myself among “the many.” 40 For as I became a youth, I longed to be
satisfied with worldly things, and I dared to grow wild in a succession of various
and shadowy loves. My form wasted away, and I became corrupt in thy eyes, yet I
was still pleasing to my own eyes--and eager to please the eyes of men.
CHAPTER II
2. But what was it that delighted me save to love and to be loved? Still I did
not keep the moderate way of the love of mind to mind--the bright path of
friendship. Instead, the mists of passion steamed up out of the puddly concupiscence
of the flesh, and the hot imagination of puberty, and they so obscured and overcast
my heart that I was unable to distinguish pure affection from unholy desire. Both
boiled confusedly within me, and dragged my unstable youth down over the cliffs of
unchaste desires and plunged me into a gulf of infamy. Thy anger had come upon
me, and I knew it not. I had been deafened by the clanking of the chains of my
mortality, the punishment for my soul’s pride, and I wandered farther from thee,
and thou didst permit me to do so. I was tossed to and fro, and wasted, and poured
out, and I boiled over in my fornications--and yet thou didst hold thy peace, O my
tardy Joy! Thou didst still hold thy peace, and I wandered still farther from thee
into more and yet more barren fields of sorrow, in proud dejection and restless
lassitude.
3. If only there had been someone to regulate my disorder and turn to my
profit the fleeting beauties of the things around me, and to fix a bound to their
sweetness, so that the tides of my youth might have spent themselves upon the
shore of marriage! Then they might have been tranquilized and satisfied with
having children, as thy law prescribes, O Lord--O thou who dost form the offspring
of our death and art able also with a tender hand to blunt the thorns which were
excluded from thy paradise!41 For thy omnipotence is not far from us even when we
are far from thee. Now, on the other hand, I might have given more vigilant heed to
the voice from the clouds: “Nevertheless, such shall have trouble in the flesh, but I
spare you,” 42 and, “It is good for a man not to touch a woman,”43 and, “He that is
40Yet another Plotinian phrase; cf. Enneads, I, 6, 9:1-2.
41Cf. Gen. 3:18 and De bono conjugali, 8-9, 39-35 (N-PNF, III, 396-413).
421 Cor. 7:28.
431 Cor. 7:1.
unmarried cares for the things that belong to the Lord, how he may please the Lord;
but he that is married cares for the things that are of the world, how he may please
his wife.”44 I should have listened more attentively to these words, and, thus having
been “made a eunuch for the Kingdom of Heaven’s sake,”45 I would have with
greater happiness expected thy embraces.
4. But, fool that I was, I foamed in my wickedness as the sea and, forsaking
thee, followed the rushing of my own tide, and burst out of all thy bounds. But I did
not escape thy scourges. For what mortal can do so? Thou wast always by me,
mercifully angry and flavoring all my unlawful pleasures with bitter discontent, in
order that I might seek pleasures free from discontent. But where could I find such
pleasure save in thee, O Lord--save in thee, who dost teach us by sorrow, who
woundest us to heal us, and dost kill us that we may not die apart from thee. Where
was I, and how far was I exiled from the delights of thy house, in that sixteenth year
of the age of my flesh, when the madness of lust held full sway in me--that madness
which grants indulgence to human shamelessness, even though it is forbidden by
thy laws--and I gave myself entirely to it? Meanwhile, my family took no care to
save me from ruin by marriage, for their sole care was that I should learn how to
make a powerful speech and become a persuasive orator.
CHAPTER III
5. Now, in that year my studies were interrupted. I had come back from
Madaura, a neighboring city 46 where I had gone to study grammar and rhetoric;
and the money for a further term at Carthage was being got together for me. This
project was more a matter of my father’s ambition than of his means, for he was
only a poor citizen of Tagaste.
To whom am I narrating all this? Not to thee, O my God, but to my own kind
in thy presence--to that small part of the human race who may chance to come upon
these writings. And to what end? That I and all who read them may understand
what depths there are from which we are to cry unto thee.47 For what is more surely
heard in thy ear than a confessing heart and a faithful life?
Who did not extol and praise my father, because he went quite beyond his
means to supply his son with the necessary expenses for a far journey in the
interest of his education? For many far richer citizens did not do so much for their
children. Still, this same father troubled himself not at all as to how I was
progressing toward thee nor how chaste I was, just so long as I was skillful in
speaking--no matter how barren I was to thy tillage, O God, who art the one true
and good Lord of my heart, which is thy field. 48
6. During that sixteenth year of my age, I lived with my parents, having a
holiday from school for a time--this idleness imposed upon me by my parents’
straitened finances. The thornbushes of lust grew rank about my head, and there
was no hand to root them out. Indeed, when my father saw me one day at the baths
and perceived that I was becoming a man, and was showing the signs of
adolescence, he joyfully told my mother about it as if already looking forward to
441 Cor. 7:32, 33.
45Cf. Matt. 19:12.
46Twenty miles from Tagaste, famed as the birthplace of Apuleius, the only notable classical author
produced by the province of Africa.
47Another echo of the De profundis (Ps. 130:1)--and the most explicit statement we have from
Augustine of his motive and aim in writing these "confessions."
48Cf. 1 Cor. 3:9.
grandchildren, rejoicing in that sort of inebriation in which the world so often
forgets thee, its Creator, and falls in love with thy creature instead of thee--the
inebriation of that invisible wine of a perverted will which turns and bows down to
infamy. But in my mother’s breast thou hadst already begun to build thy temple
and the foundation of thy holy habitation--whereas my father was only a
catechumen, and that but recently. She was, therefore, startled with a holy fear and
trembling: for though I had not yet been baptized, she feared those crooked ways in
which they walk who turn their backs to thee and not their faces.
7. Woe is me! Do I dare affirm that thou didst hold thy peace, O my God,
while I wandered farther away from thee? Didst thou really then hold thy peace?
Then whose words were they but thine which by my mother, thy faithful handmaid,
thou didst pour into my ears? None of them, however, sank into my heart to make
me do anything. She deplored and, as I remember, warned me privately with great
solicitude, “not to commit fornication; but above all things never to defile another
man’s wife.” These appeared to me but womanish counsels, which I would have
blushed to obey. Yet they were from thee, and I knew it not. I thought that thou
wast silent and that it was only she who spoke. Yet it was through her that thou
didst not keep silence toward me; and in rejecting her counsel I was rejecting thee-I, her son, “the son of thy handmaid, thy servant.”49 But I did not realize this, and
rushed on headlong with such blindness that, among my friends, I was ashamed to
be less shameless than they, when I heard them boasting of their disgraceful
exploits--yes, and glorying all the more the worse their baseness was. What is
worse, I took pleasure in such exploits, not for the pleasure’s sake only but mostly
for praise. What is worthy of vituperation except vice itself? Yet I made myself out
worse than I was, in order that I might not go lacking for praise. And when in
anything I had not sinned as the worst ones in the group, I would still say that I
had done what I had not done, in order not to appear contemptible because I was
more innocent than they; and not to drop in their esteem because I was more chaste.
8. Behold with what companions I walked the streets of Babylon! I rolled in
its mire and lolled about on it, as if on a bed of spices and precious ointments. And,
drawing me more closely to the very center of that city, my invisible enemy trod me
down and seduced me, for I was easy to seduce. My mother had already fled out of
the midst of Babylon50 and was progressing, albeit slowly, toward its outskirts. For
in counseling me to chastity, she did not bear in mind what her husband had told
her about me. And although she knew that my passions were destructive even then
and dangerous for the future, she did not think they should be restrained by the
bonds of conjugal affection--if, indeed, they could not be cut away to the quick. She
took no heed of this, for she was afraid lest a wife should prove a hindrance and a
burden to my hopes. These were not her hopes of the world to come, which my
mother had in thee, but the hope of learning, which both my parents were too
anxious that I should acquire--my father, because he had little or no thought of
thee, and only vain thoughts for me; my mother, because she thought that the usual
course of study would not only be no hindrance but actually a furtherance toward
my eventual return to thee. This much I conjecture, recalling as well as I can the
temperaments of my parents. Meantime, the reins of discipline were slackened on
me, so that without the restraint of due severity, I might play at whatsoever I
fancied, even to the point of dissoluteness. And in all this there was that mist which
shut out from my sight the brightness of thy truth, O my God; and my iniquity
49Ps. 116:16.
50Cf. Jer. 51:6; 50:8.
bulged out, as it were, with fatness! 51
CHAPTER IV
9. Theft is punished by thy law, O Lord, and by the law written in men’s
hearts, which not even ingrained wickedness can erase. For what thief will tolerate
another thief stealing from him? Even a rich thief will not tolerate a poor thief who
is driven to theft by want. Yet I had a desire to commit robbery, and did so,
compelled to it by neither hunger nor poverty, but through a contempt for welldoing and a strong impulse to iniquity. For I pilfered something which I already had
in sufficient measure, and of much better quality. I did not desire to enjoy what I
stole, but only the theft and the sin itself.
There was a pear tree close to our own vineyard, heavily laden with fruit,
which was not tempting either for its color or for its flavor. Late one night--having
prolonged our games in the streets until then, as our bad habit was--a group of
young scoundrels, and I among them, went to shake and rob this tree. We carried off
a huge load of pears, not to eat ourselves, but to dump out to the hogs, after barely
tasting some of them ourselves. Doing this pleased us all the more because it was
forbidden. Such was my heart, O God, such was my heart--which thou didst pity
even in that bottomless pit. Behold, now let my heart confess to thee what it was
seeking there, when I was being gratuitously wanton, having no inducement to evil
but the evil itself. It was foul, and I loved it. I loved my own undoing. I loved my
error--not that for which I erred but the error itself. A depraved soul, falling away
from security in thee to destruction in itself, seeking nothing from the shameful
deed but shame itself.
CHAPTER V
10. Now there is a comeliness in all beautiful bodies, and in gold and silver
and all things. The sense of touch has its own power to please and the other senses
find their proper objects in physical sensation. Worldly honor also has its own glory,
and so do the powers to command and to overcome: and from these there springs up
the desire for revenge. Yet, in seeking these pleasures, we must not depart from
thee, O Lord, nor deviate from thy law. The life which we live here has its own
peculiar attractiveness because it has a certain measure of comeliness of its own
and a harmony with all these inferior values. The bond of human friendship has a
sweetness of its own, binding many souls together as one. Yet because of these
values, sin is committed, because we have an inordinate preference for these goods
of a lower order and neglect the better and the higher good--neglecting thee, O our
Lord God, and thy truth and thy law. For these inferior values have their delights,
but not at all equal to my God, who hath made them all. For in him do the righteous
delight and he is the sweetness of the upright in heart.
11. When, therefore, we inquire why a crime was committed, we do not accept
the explanation unless it appears that there was the desire to obtain some of those
values which we designate inferior, or else a fear of losing them. For truly they are
beautiful and comely, though in comparison with the superior and celestial goods
they are abject and contemptible. A man has murdered another man--what was his
motive? Either he desired his wife or his property or else he would steal to support
himself; or else he was afraid of losing something to him; or else, having been
injured, he was burning to be revenged. Would a man commit murder without a
51Cf. Ps. 73:7.
motive, taking delight simply in the act of murder? Who would believe such a thing?
Even for that savage and brutal man [Catiline], of whom it was said that he was
gratuitously wicked and cruel, there is still a motive assigned to his deeds. “Lest
through idleness,” he says, “hand or heart should grow inactive.”52 And to what
purpose? Why, even this: that, having once got possession of the city through his
practice of his wicked ways, he might gain honors, empire, and wealth, and thus be
exempt from the fear of the laws and from financial difficulties in supplying the
needs of his family--and from the consciousness of his own wickedness. So it seems
that even Catiline himself loved not his own villainies, but something else, and it
was this that gave him the motive for his crimes.
CHAPTER VI
12. What was it in you, O theft of mine, that I, poor wretch, doted on--you
deed of darkness--in that sixteenth year of my age? Beautiful you were not, for you
were a theft. But are you anything at all, so that I could analyze the case with you?
Those pears that we stole were fair to the sight because they were thy creation, O
Beauty beyond compare, O Creator of all, O thou good God--God the highest good
and my true good.53 Those pears were truly pleasant to the sight, but it was not for
them that my miserable soul lusted, for I had an abundance of better pears. I stole
those simply that I might steal, for, having stolen them, I threw them away. My sole
gratification in them was my own sin, which I was pleased to enjoy; for, if any one of
these pears entered my mouth, the only good flavor it had was my sin in eating it.
And now, O Lord my God, I ask what it was in that theft of mine that caused me
such delight; for behold it had no beauty of its own--certainly not the sort of beauty
that exists in justice and wisdom, nor such as is in the mind, memory senses, and
the animal life of man; nor yet the kind that is the glory and beauty of the stars in
their courses; nor the beauty of the earth, or the sea--teeming with spawning life,
replacing in birth that which dies and decays. Indeed, it did not have that false and
shadowy beauty which attends the deceptions of vice.
13. For thus we see pride wearing the mask of high-spiritedness, although
only thou, O God, art high above all. Ambition seeks honor and glory, whereas only
thou shouldst be honored above all, and glorified forever. The powerful man seeks to
be feared, because of his cruelty; but who ought really to be feared but God only?
What can be forced away or withdrawn out of his power--when or where or whither
or by whom? The enticements of the wanton claim the name of love; and yet nothing
is more enticing than thy love, nor is anything loved more healthfully than thy
truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity prompts a desire for knowledge,
whereas it is only thou who knowest all things supremely. Indeed, ignorance and
foolishness themselves go masked under the names of simplicity and innocence; yet
there is no being that has true simplicity like thine, and none is innocent as thou
art. Thus it is that by a sinner’s own deeds he is himself harmed. Human sloth
pretends to long for rest, but what sure rest is there save in the Lord? Luxury would
fain be called plenty and abundance; but thou art the fullness and unfailing
abundance of unfading joy. Prodigality presents a show of liberality; but thou art
the most lavish giver of all good things. Covetousness desires to possess much; but
thou art already the possessor of all things. Envy contends that its aim is for
excellence; but what is so excellent as thou? Anger seeks revenge; but who avenges
more justly than thou? Fear recoils at the unfamiliar and the sudden changes which
52Cicero, De Catiline, 16.
53Deus summum bonum et bonum verum meum.
threaten things beloved, and is wary for its own security; but what can happen that
is unfamiliar or sudden to thee? Or who can deprive thee of what thou lovest?
Where, really, is there unshaken security save with thee? Grief languishes for
things lost in which desire had taken delight, because it wills to have nothing taken
from it, just as nothing can be taken from thee.
14. Thus the soul commits fornication when she is turned from thee,54 and
seeks apart from thee what she cannot find pure and untainted until she returns to
thee. All things thus imitate thee--but pervertedly--when they separate themselves
far from thee and raise themselves up against thee. But, even in this act of perverse
imitation, they acknowledge thee to be the Creator of all nature, and recognize that
there is no place whither they can altogether separate themselves from thee. What
was it, then, that I loved in that theft? And wherein was I imitating my Lord, even
in a corrupted and perverted way? Did I wish, if only by gesture, to rebel against thy
law, even though I had no power to do so actually--so that, even as a captive, I
might produce a sort of counterfeit liberty, by doing with impunity deeds that were
forbidden, in a deluded sense of omnipotence? Behold this servant of thine, fleeing
from his Lord and following a shadow! O rottenness! O monstrousness of life and
abyss of death! Could I find pleasure only in what was unlawful, and only because it
was unlawful?
CHAPTER VII
15. “What shall I render unto the Lord”55 for the fact that while my memory
recalls these things my soul no longer fears them? I will love thee, O Lord, and
thank thee, and confess to thy name, because thou hast put away from me such
wicked and evil deeds. To thy grace I attribute it and to thy mercy, that thou hast
melted away my sin as if it were ice. To thy grace also I attribute whatsoever of evil
I did not commit--for what might I not have done, loving sin as I did, just for the
sake of sinning? Yea, all the sins that I confess now to have been forgiven me, both
those which I committed willfully and those which, by thy providence, I did not
commit. What man is there who, when reflecting upon his own infirmity, dares to
ascribe his chastity and innocence to his own powers, so that he should love thee
less--as if he were in less need of thy mercy in which thou forgivest the
transgressions of those that return to thee? As for that man who, when called by
thee, obeyed thy voice and shunned those things which he here reads of me as I
recall and confess them of myself, let him not despise me--for I, who was sick, have
been healed by the same Physician by whose aid it was that he did not fall sick, or
rather was less sick than I. And for this let him love thee just as much--indeed, all
the more--since he sees me restored from such a great weakness of sin by the
selfsame Saviour by whom he sees himself preserved from such a weakness.
CHAPTER VIII
16. What profit did I, a wretched one, receive from those things which, when I
remember them now, cause me shame--above all, from that theft, which I loved only
for the theft’s sake? And, as the theft itself was nothing, I was all the more wretched
in that I loved it so. Yet by myself alone I would not have done it--I still recall how I
felt about this then--I could not have done it alone. I loved it then because of the
54Avertitur, the opposite of convertitur: the evil will turns the soul away from God; this is sin. By
grace it is turned to God; this is conversion.
55Ps. 116:12.
companionship of my accomplices with whom I did it. I did not, therefore, love the
theft alone--yet, indeed, it was only the theft that I loved, for the companionship
was nothing. What is this paradox? Who is it that can explain it to me but God, who
illumines my heart and searches out the dark corners thereof? What is it that has
prompted my mind to inquire about it, to discuss and to reflect upon all this? For
had I at that time loved the pears that I stole and wished to enjoy them, I might
have done so alone, if I could have been satisfied with the mere act of theft by which
my pleasure was served. Nor did I need to have that itching of my own passions
inflamed by the encouragement of my accomplices. But since the pleasure I got was
not from the pears, it was in the crime itself, enhanced by the companionship of my
fellow sinners.
CHAPTER IX
17. By what passion, then, was I animated? It was undoubtedly depraved and
a great misfortune for me to feel it. But still, what was it? “Who can understand his
errors?” 56
We laughed because our hearts were tickled at the thought of deceiving the
owners, who had no idea of what we were doing and would have strenuously
objected. Yet, again, why did I find such delight in doing this which I would not
have done alone? Is it that no one readily laughs alone? No one does so readily; but
still sometimes, when men are by themselves and no one else is about, a fit of
laughter will overcome them when something very droll presents itself to their
sense or mind. Yet alone I would not have done it--alone I could not have done it at
all.
Behold, my God, the lively review of my soul’s career is laid bare before thee.
I would not have committed that theft alone. My pleasure in it was not what I stole
but, rather, the act of stealing. Nor would I have enjoyed doing it alone--indeed I
would not have done it! O friendship all unfriendly! You strange seducer of the soul,
who hungers for mischief from impulses of mirth and wantonness, who craves
another’s loss without any desire for one’s own profit or revenge--so that, when they
say, “Let’s go, let’s do it,” we are ashamed not to be shameless.
CHAPTER X
18. Who can unravel such a twisted and tangled knottiness? It is unclean. I
hate to reflect upon it. I hate to look on it. But I do long for thee, O Righteousness
and Innocence, so beautiful and comely to all virtuous eyes--I long for thee with an
insatiable satiety. With thee is perfect rest, and life unchanging. He who enters into
thee enters into the joy of his Lord,57 and shall have no fear and shall achieve
excellence in the Excellent. I fell away from thee, O my God, and in my youth I
wandered too far from thee, my true support. And I became to myself a wasteland.
56Ps. 19:12.
57Cf. Matt. 25:21.
BOOK THREE
The story of his student days in Carthage, his discovery of Cicero’s Hortensius, the
enkindling of his philosophical interest, his infatuation with the Manichean heresy,
and his mother’s dream which foretold his eventual return to the true faith and to
God.
CHAPTER I
1. I came to Carthage, where a caldron of unholy loves was seething and
bubbling all around me. I was not in love as yet, but I was in love with love; and,
from a hidden hunger, I hated myself for not feeling more intensely a sense of
hunger. I was looking for something to love, for I was in love with loving, and I
hated security and a smooth way, free from snares. Within me I had a dearth of that
inner food which is thyself, my God--although that dearth caused me no hunger.
And I remained without any appetite for incorruptible food--not because I was
already filled with it, but because the emptier I became the more I loathed it.
Because of this my soul was unhealthy; and, full of sores, it exuded itself forth,
itching to be scratched by scraping on the things of the senses.58 Yet, had these
things no soul, they would certainly not inspire our love.
To love and to be loved was sweet to me, and all the more when I gained the
enjoyment of the body of the person I loved. Thus I polluted the spring of friendship
with the filth of concupiscence and I dimmed its luster with the slime of lust. Yet,
foul and unclean as I was, I still craved, in excessive vanity, to be thought elegant
and urbane. And I did fall precipitately into the love I was longing for. My God, my
mercy, with how much bitterness didst thou, out of thy infinite goodness, flavor that
sweetness for me! For I was not only beloved but also I secretly reached the climax
of enjoyment; and yet I was joyfully bound with troublesome tics, so that I could be
scourged with the burning iron rods of jealousy, suspicion, fear, anger, and strife.
CHAPTER II
2. Stage plays also captivated me, with their sights full of the images of my
own miseries: fuel for my own fire. Now, why does a man like to be made sad by
viewing doleful and tragic scenes, which he himself could not by any means endure?
Yet, as a spectator, he wishes to experience from them a sense of grief, and in this
very sense of grief his pleasure consists. What is this but wretched madness? For a
man is more affected by these actions the more he is spuriously involved in these
affections. Now, if he should suffer them in his own person, it is the custom to call
this “misery.” But when he suffers with another, then it is called “compassion.” But
what kind of compassion is it that arises from viewing fictitious and unreal
sufferings? The spectator is not expected to aid the sufferer but merely to grieve for
him. And the more he grieves the more he applauds the actor of these fictions. If the
misfortunes of the characters--whether historical or entirely imaginary--are
represented so as not to touch the feelings of the spectator, he goes away disgusted
and complaining. But if his feelings are deeply touched, he sits it out attentively,
and sheds tears of joy.
3. Tears and sorrow, then, are loved. Surely every man desires to be joyful.
58Cf. Job 2:7, 8.
And, though no one is willingly miserable, one may, nevertheless, be pleased to be
merciful so that we love their sorrows because without them we should have
nothing to pity. This also springs from that same vein of friendship. But whither
does it go? Whither does it flow? Why does it run into that torrent of pitch which
seethes forth those huge tides of loathsome lusts in which it is changed and altered
past recognition, being diverted and corrupted from its celestial purity by its own
will? Shall, then, compassion be repudiated? By no means! Let us, however, love the
sorrows of others. But let us beware of uncleanness, O my soul, under the protection
of my God, the God of our fathers, who is to be praised and exalted--let us beware of
uncleanness. I have not yet ceased to have compassion. But in those days in the
theaters I sympathized with lovers when they sinfully enjoyed one another,
although this was done fictitiously in the play. And when they lost one another, I
grieved with them, as if pitying them, and yet had delight in both grief and pity.
Nowadays I feel much more pity for one who delights in his wickedness than for one
who counts himself unfortunate because he fails to obtain some harmful pleasure or
suffers the loss of some miserable felicity. This, surely, is the truer compassion, but
the sorrow I feel in it has no delight for me. For although he that grieves with the
unhappy should be commended for his work of love, yet he who has the power of
real compassion would still prefer that there be nothing for him to grieve about. For
if good will were to be ill will--which it cannot be--only then could he who is truly
and sincerely compassionate wish that there were some unhappy people so that he
might commiserate them. Some grief may then be justified, but none of it loved.
Thus it is that thou dost act, O Lord God, for thou lovest souls far more purely than
we do and art more incorruptibly compassionate, although thou art never wounded
by any sorrow. Now “who is sufficient for these things?”59
4. But at that time, in my wretchedness, I loved to grieve; and I sought for
things to grieve about. In another man’s misery, even though it was feigned and
impersonated on the stage, that performance of the actor pleased me best and
attracted me most powerfully which moved me to tears. What marvel then was it
that an unhappy sheep, straying from thy flock and impatient of thy care, I became
infected with a foul disease? This is the reason for my love of griefs: that they would
not probe into me too deeply (for I did not love to suffer in myself such things as I
loved to look at), and they were the sort of grief which came from hearing those
fictions, which affected only the surface of my emotion. Still, just as if they had been
poisoned fingernails, their scratching was followed by inflammation, swelling,
putrefaction, and corruption. Such was my life! But was it life, O my God?
CHAPTER III
5. And still thy faithful mercy hovered over me from afar. In what unseemly
iniquities did I wear myself out, following a sacrilegious curiosity, which, having
deserted thee, then began to drag me down into the treacherous abyss, into the
beguiling obedience of devils, to whom I made offerings of my wicked deeds. And
still in all this thou didst not fail to scourge me. I dared, even while thy solemn rites
were being celebrated inside the walls of thy church, to desire and to plan a project
which merited death as its fruit. For this thou didst chastise me with grievous
punishments, but nothing in comparison with my fault, O thou my greatest mercy,
my God, my refuge from those terrible dangers in which I wandered with stiff neck,
receding farther from thee, loving my own ways and not thine--loving a vagrant
liberty!
592 Cor. 2:16.
6. Those studies I was then pursuing, generally accounted as respectable,
were aimed at distinction in the courts of law--to excel in which, the more crafty I
was, the more I should be praised. Such is the blindness of men that they even glory
in their blindness. And by this time I had become a master in the School of Rhetoric,
and I rejoiced proudly in this honor and became inflated with arrogance. Still I was
relatively sedate, O Lord, as thou knowest, and had no share in the wreckings of
“The Wreckers”60 (for this stupid and diabolical name was regarded as the very
badge of gallantry) among whom I lived with a sort of ashamed embarrassment that
I was not even as they were. But I lived with them, and at times I was delighted
with their friendship, even when I abhorred their acts (that is, their “wrecking”) in
which they insolently attacked the modesty of strangers, tormenting them by
uncalled-for jeers, gratifying their mischievous mirth. Nothing could more nearly
resemble the actions of devils than these fellows. By what name, therefore, could
they be more aptly called than “wreckers”?--being themselves wrecked first, and
altogether turned upside down. They were secretly mocked at and seduced by the
deceiving spirits, in the very acts by which they amused themselves in jeering and
horseplay at the expense of others.
CHAPTER IV
7. Among such as these, in that unstable period of my life, I studied the books
of eloquence, for it was in eloquence that I was eager to be eminent, though from a
reprehensible and vainglorious motive, and a delight in human vanity. In the
ordinary course of study I came upon a certain book of Cicero’s, whose language
almost all admire, though not his heart. This particular book of his contains an
exhortation to philosophy and was called Hortensius.61 Now it was this book which
quite definitely changed my whole attitude and turned my prayers toward thee, O
Lord, and gave me new hope and new desires. Suddenly every vain hope became
worthless to me, and with an incredible warmth of heart I yearned for an
immortality of wisdom and began now to arise that I might return to thee. It was
not to sharpen my tongue further that I made use of that book. I was now nineteen;
my father had been dead two years,62 and my mother was providing the money for
my study of rhetoric. What won me in it [i.e., the Hortensius] was not its style but
its substance.
8. How ardent was I then, my God, how ardent to fly from earthly things to
thee! Nor did I know how thou wast even then dealing with me. For with thee is
wisdom. In Greek the love of wisdom is called “philosophy,” and it was with this love
that that book inflamed me. There are some who seduce through philosophy, under
a great, alluring, and honorable name, using it to color and adorn their own errors.
And almost all who did this, in Cicero’s own time and earlier, are censored and
pointed out in his book. In it there is also manifest that most salutary admonition of
thy Spirit, spoken by thy good and pious servant: “Beware lest any man spoil you
through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments
of the world, and not after Christ: for in him all the fullness of the Godhead dwells
60Eversores, "overturners," from overtere, to overthrow or ruin. This was the nickname of a gang of
young hoodlums in Carthage, made up largely, it seems, of students in the schools.
61A minor essay now lost. We know of its existence from other writers, but the only fragments that
remain are in Augustine's works: Contra Academicos, III, 14:31; De beata vita, X; Soliloquia, I, 17;
De civitate Dei, III, 15; Contra Julianum, IV, 15:78; De Trinitate, XIII, 4:7, 5:8; XIV, 9:12, 19:26;
Epist. CXXX, 10.
62Note this merely parenthetical reference to his father's death and contrast it with the account of
his mother's death in Bk. IX, Chs. X-XII.
bodily.” 63 Since at that time, as thou knowest, O Light of my heart, the words of the
apostle were unknown to me, I was delighted with Cicero’s exhortation, at least
enough so that I was stimulated by it, and enkindled and inflamed to love, to seek,
to obtain, to hold, and to embrace, not this or that sect, but wisdom itself, wherever
it might be. Only this checked my ardor: that the name of Christ was not in it. For
this name, by thy mercy, O Lord, this name of my Saviour thy Son, my tender heart
had piously drunk in, deeply treasured even with my mother’s milk. And
whatsoever was lacking that name, no matter how erudite, polished, and truthful,
did not quite take complete hold of me.
CHAPTER V
9. I resolved, therefore, to direct my mind to the Holy Scriptures, that I might
see what they were. And behold, I saw something not comprehended by the proud,
not disclosed to children, something lowly in the hearing, but sublime in the doing,
and veiled in mysteries. Yet I was not of the number of those who could enter into it
or bend my neck to follow its steps. For then it was quite different from what I now
feel. When I then turned toward the Scriptures, they appeared to me to be quite
unworthy to be compared with the dignity of Tully.64 For my inflated pride was
repelled by their style, nor could the sharpness of my wit penetrate their inner
meaning. Truly they were of a sort to aid the growth of little ones, but I scorned to
be a little one and, swollen with pride, I looked upon myself as fully grown.
CHAPTER VI
10. Thus I fell among men, delirious in their pride, carnal and voluble, whose
mouths were the snares of the devil--a trap made out of a mixture of the syllables of
thy name and the names of our Lord Jesus Christ and of the Paraclete. 65 These
names were never out of their mouths, but only as sound and the clatter of tongues,
for their heart was empty of truth. Still they cried, “Truth, Truth,” and were forever
speaking the word to me. But the thing itself was not in them. Indeed, they spoke
falsely not only of thee--who truly art the Truth--but also about the basic elements
of this world, thy creation. And, indeed, I should have passed by the philosophers
themselves even when they were speaking truth concerning thy creatures, for the
sake of thy love, O Highest Good, and my Father, O Beauty of all things beautiful.
O Truth, Truth, how inwardly even then did the marrow of my soul sigh for
thee when, frequently and in manifold ways, in numerous and vast books, [the
Manicheans] sounded out thy name though it was only a sound! And in these
dishes--while I starved for thee--they served up to me, in thy stead, the sun and
moon thy beauteous works--but still only thy works and not thyself; indeed, not
63Col. 2:8, 9.
64I.e., Marcus Tullius Cicero.
65These were the Manicheans, a pseudo-Christian sect founded by a Persian religious teacher, Mani
(c. A.D. 216-277). They professed a highly eclectic religious system chiefly distinguished by its radical
dualism and its elaborate cosmogony in which good was co-ordinated with light and evil with
darkness. In the sect, there was an esoteric minority called perfecti, who were supposed to obey the
strict rules of an ascetic ethic; the rest were auditores, who followed, at a distance, the doctrines of
the perfecti but not their rules. The chief attraction of Manicheism lay in the fact that it appeared to
offer a straightforward, apparently profound and rational solution to the problem of evil, both in
nature and in human experience. Cf. H.C. Puech, Le Manichéisme, son fondateur--sa doctrine (Paris,
1949); F.C. Burkitt, The Religion of the Manichees (Cambridge, 1925); and Steven Runciman, The
Medieval Manichee (Cambridge, 1947).
even thy first work. For thy spiritual works came before these material creations,
celestial and shining though they are. But I was hungering and thirsting, not even
after those first works of thine, but after thyself the Truth, “with whom is no
variableness, neither shadow of turning.”66 Yet they still served me glowing
fantasies in those dishes. And, truly, it would have been better to have loved this
very sun--which at least is true to our sight--than those illusions of theirs which
deceive the mind through the eye. And yet because I supposed the illusions to be
from thee I fed on them--not with avidity, for thou didst not taste in my mouth as
thou art, and thou wast not these empty fictions. Neither was I nourished by them,
but was instead exhausted. Food in dreams appears like our food awake; yet the
sleepers are not nourished by it, for they are asleep. But the fantasies of the
Manicheans were not in any way like thee as thou hast spoken to me now. They
were simply fantastic and false. In comparison to them the actual bodies which we
see with our fleshly sight, both celestial and terrestrial, are far more certain. These
true bodies even the beasts and birds perceive as well as we do and they are more
certain than the images we form about them. And again, we do with more certainty
form our conceptions about them than, from them, we go on by means of them to
imagine of other greater and infinite bodies which have no existence. With such
empty husks was I then fed, and yet was not fed.
But thou, my Love, for whom I longed in order that I might be strong, neither
art those bodies that we see in heaven nor art thou those which we do not see there,
for thou hast created them all and yet thou reckonest them not among thy greatest
works. How far, then, art thou from those fantasies of mine, fantasies of bodies
which have no real being at all! The images of those bodies which actually exist are
far more certain than these fantasies. The bodies themselves are more certain than
the images, yet even these thou art not. Thou art not even the soul, which is the life
of bodies; and, clearly, the life of the body is better than the body itself. But thou art
the life of souls, life of lives, having life in thyself, and never changing, O Life of my
soul.67
11. Where, then, wast thou and how far from me? Far, indeed, was I
wandering away from thee, being barred even from the husks of those swine whom I
fed with husks.68 For how much better were the fables of the grammarians and
poets than these snares [of the Manicheans]! For verses and poems and “the flying
Medea” 69 are still more profitable truly than these men’s “five elements,” with their
various colors, answering to “the five caves of darkness” 70 (none of which exist and
yet in which they slay the one who believes in them). For verses and poems I can
turn into food for the mind, for though I sang about “the flying Medea” I never
believed it, but those other things [the fantasies of the Manicheans] I did believe.
Woe, woe, by what steps I was dragged down to “the depths of hell”71--toiling and
fuming because of my lack of the truth, even when I was seeking after thee, my God!
To thee I now confess it, for thou didst have mercy on me when I had not yet
confessed it. I sought after thee, but not according to the understanding of the mind,
by means of which thou hast willed that I should excel the beasts, but only after the
guidance of my physical senses. Thou wast more inward to me than the most inward
part of me; and higher than my highest reach. I came upon that brazen woman,
66James 1:17.
67Cf. Plotinus, Enneads, V, 3:14.
68Cf. Luke 15:16.
69Cf. Ovid, Metamorphoses, VII, 219-224.
70For the details of the Manichean cosmogony, see Burkitt, op. cit., ch. 4.
71Prov. 9:18.
devoid of prudence, who, in Solomon’s obscure parable, sits at the door of the house
on a seat and says, “Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is
pleasant.” 72 This woman seduced me, because she found my soul outside its own
door, dwelling on the sensations of my flesh and ruminating on such food as I had
swallowed through these physical senses.
CHAPTER VII
12. For I was ignorant of that other reality, true Being. And so it was that I
was subtly persuaded to agree with these foolish deceivers when they put their
questions to me: “Whence comes evil?” and, “Is God limited by a bodily shape, and
has he hairs and nails?” and, “Are those patriarchs to be esteemed righteous who
had many wives at one time, and who killed men and who sacrificed living
creatures?” In my ignorance I was much disturbed over these things and, though I
was retreating from the truth, I appeared to myself to be going toward it, because I
did not yet know that evil was nothing but a privation of good (that, indeed, it has
no being)73; and how should I have seen this when the sight of my eyes went no
farther than physical objects, and the sight of my mind reached no farther than to
fantasms? And I did not know that God is a spirit who has no parts extended in
length and breadth, whose being has no mass--for every mass is less in a part than
in a whole--and if it be an infinite mass it must be less in such parts as are limited
by a certain space than in its infinity. It cannot therefore be wholly everywhere as
Spirit is, as God is. And I was entirely ignorant as to what is that principle within
us by which we are like God, and which is rightly said in Scripture to be made “after
God’s image.”
13. Nor did I know that true inner righteousness--which does not judge
according to custom but by the measure of the most perfect law of God Almighty--by
which the mores of various places and times were adapted to those places and times
(though the law itself is the same always and everywhere, not one thing in one place
and another in another). By this inner righteousness Abraham and Isaac, and Jacob
and Moses and David, and all those commended by the mouth of God were righteous
and were judged unrighteous only by foolish men who were judging by human
judgment and gauging their judgment of the mores of the whole human race by the
narrow norms of their own mores. It is as if a man in an armory, not knowing what
piece goes on what part of the body, should put a greave on his head and a helmet
on his shin and then complain because they did not fit. Or as if, on some holiday
when afternoon business was forbidden, one were to grumble at not being allowed to
go on selling as it had been lawful for him to do in the forenoon. Or, again, as if, in a
house, he sees a servant handle something that the butler is not permitted to touch,
or when something is done behind a stable that would be prohibited in a dining
room, and then a person should be indignant that in one house and one family the
same things are not allowed to every member of the household. Such is the case
with those who cannot endure to hear that something was lawful for righteous men
in former times that is not so now; or that God, for certain temporal reasons,
commanded then one thing to them and another now to these: yet both would be
serving the same righteous will. These people should see that in one man, one day,
and one house, different things are fit for different members; and a thing that was
formerly lawful may become, after a time, unlawful--and something allowed or
commanded in one place that is justly prohibited and punished in another. Is
72Cf. Prov. 9:17; see also Prov. 9:13 (Vulgate text).
73Cf. Enchiridion, IV.
justice, then, variable and changeable? No, but the times over which she presides
are not all alike because they are different times. But men, whose days upon the
earth are few, cannot by their own perception harmonize the causes of former ages
and other nations, of which they had no experience, and compare them with these of
which they do have experience; although in one and the same body, or day, or
family, they can readily see that what is suitable for each member, season, part, and
person may differ. To the one they take exception; to the other they submit.
14. These things I did not know then, nor had I observed their import. They
met my eyes on every side, and I did not see. I composed poems, in which I was not
free to place each foot just anywhere, but in one meter one way, and in another
meter another way, nor even in any one verse was the same foot allowed in all
places. Yet the art by which I composed did not have different principles for each of
these different cases, but the same law throughout. Still I did not see how, by that
righteousness to which good and holy men submitted, all those things that God had
commanded were gathered, in a far more excellent and sublime way, into one moral
order; and it did not vary in any essential respect, though it did not in varying times
prescribe all things at once but, rather, distributed and prescribed what was proper
for each. And, being blind, I blamed those pious fathers, not only for making use of
present things as God had commanded and inspired them to do, but also for
foreshadowing things to come, as God revealed it to them.
CHAPTER VIII
15. Can it ever, at any time or place, be unrighteous for a man to love God
with all his heart, with all his soul, and with all his mind; and his neighbor as
himself?74 Similarly, offenses against nature are everywhere and at all times to be
held in detestation and should be punished. Such offenses, for example, were those
of the Sodomites; and, even if all nations should commit them, they would all be
judged guilty of the same crime by the divine law, which has not made men so that
they should ever abuse one another in that way. For the fellowship that should be
between God and us is violated whenever that nature of which he is the author is
polluted by perverted lust. But these offenses against customary morality are to be
avoided according to the variety of such customs. Thus, what is agreed upon by
convention, and confirmed by custom or the law of any city or nation, may not be
violated at the lawless pleasure of any, whether citizen or stranger. For any part
that is not consistent with its whole is unseemly. Nevertheless, when God
commands anything contrary to the customs or compacts of any nation, even though
it were never done by them before, it is to be done; and if it has been interrupted, it
is to be restored; and if it has never been established, it is to be established. For it is
lawful for a king, in the state over which he reigns, to command that which neither
he himself nor anyone before him had commanded. And if it cannot be held to be
inimical to the public interest to obey him--and, in truth, it would be inimical if he
were not obeyed, since obedience to princes is a general compact of human society-how much more, then, ought we unhesitatingly to obey God, the Governor of all his
creatures! For, just as among the authorities in human society, the greater
authority is obeyed before the lesser, so also must God be above all.
16. This applies as well to deeds of violence where there is a real desire to
harm another, either by humiliating treatment or by injury. Either of these may be
done for reasons of revenge, as one enemy against another, or in order to obtain
some advantage over another, as in the case of the highwayman and the traveler;
74Cf. Matt. 22:37-39.
else they may be done in order to avoid some other evil, as in the case of one who
fears another; or through envy as, for example, an unfortunate man harming a
happy one just because he is happy; or they may be done by a prosperous man
against someone whom he fears will become equal to himself or whose equality he
resents. They may even be done for the mere pleasure in another man’s pain, as the
spectators of gladiatorial shows or the people who deride and mock at others. These
are the major forms of iniquity that spring out of the lust of the flesh, and of the eye,
and of power.75 Sometimes there is just one; sometimes two together; sometimes all
of them at once. Thus we live, offending against the Three and the Seven, that harp
of ten strings, thy Decalogue, O God most high and most sweet.76 But now how can
offenses of vileness harm thee who canst not be defiled; or how can deeds of violence
harm thee who canst not be harmed? Still thou dost punish these sins which men
commit against themselves because, even when they sin against thee, they are also
committing impiety against their own souls. Iniquity gives itself the lie, either by
corrupting or by perverting that nature which thou hast made and ordained. And
they do this by an immoderate use of lawful things; or by lustful desire for things
forbidden, as “against nature”; or when they are guilty of sin by raging with heart
and voice against thee, rebelling against thee, “kicking against the pricks”77; or
when they cast aside respect for human society and take audacious delight in
conspiracies and feuds according to their private likes and dislikes.
This is what happens whenever thou art forsaken, O Fountain of Life, who
art the one and true Creator and Ruler of the universe. This is what happens when
through self-willed pride a part is loved under the false assumption that it is the
whole. Therefore, we must return to thee in humble piety and let thee purge us from
our evil ways, and be merciful to those who confess their sins to thee, and hear the
groanings of the prisoners and loosen us from those fetters which we have forged for
ourselves. This thou wilt do, provided we do not raise up against thee the arrogance
of a false freedom--for thus we lose all through craving more, by loving our own good
more than thee, the common good of all.
CHAPTER IX
17. But among all these vices and crimes and manifold iniquities, there are
also the sins that are committed by men who are, on the whole, making progress
toward the good. When these are judged rightly and after the rule of perfection, the
sins are censored but the men are to be commended because they show the hope of
bearing fruit, like the green shoot of the growing corn. And there are some deeds
that resemble vice and crime and yet are not sin because they offend neither thee,
our Lord God, nor social custom. For example, when suitable reserves for hard times
are provided, we cannot judge that this is done merely from a hoarding impulse. Or,
again, when acts are punished by constituted authority for the sake of correction,
we cannot judge that they are done merely out of a desire to inflict pain. Thus,
many a deed which is disapproved in man’s sight may be approved by thy
testimony. And many a man who is praised by men is condemned--as thou art
witness--because frequently the deed itself, the mind of the doer, and the hidden
exigency of the situation all vary among themselves. But when, contrary to human
expectation, thou commandest something unusual or unthought of--indeed,
75Cf. 1 John 2:16. And see also Bk. X, Chs. XXX-XLI, for an elaborate analysis of them.
76Cf. Ex. 20:3-8; Ps. 144:9. In Augustine's Sermon IX, he points out that in the Decalogue three
commandments pertain to God and seven to men.
77Acts 9:5.
something thou mayest formerly have forbidden, about which thou mayest conceal
the reason for thy command at that particular time; and even though it may be
contrary to the ordinance of some society of men78--who doubts but that it should be
done because only that society of men is righteous which obeys thee? But blessed
are they who know what thou dost command. For all things done by those who obey
thee either exhibit something necessary at that particular time or they foreshow
things to come.
CHAPTER X
18. But I was ignorant of all this, and so I mocked those holy servants and
prophets of thine. Yet what did I gain by mocking them save to be mocked in turn
by thee? Insensibly and little by little, I was led on to such follies as to believe that a
fig tree wept when it was plucked and that the sap of the mother tree was tears.
Notwithstanding this, if a fig was plucked, by not his own but another man’s
wickedness, some Manichean saint might eat it, digest it in his stomach, and
breathe it out again in the form of angels. Indeed, in his prayers he would assuredly
groan and sigh forth particles of God, although these particles of the most high and
true God would have remained bound in that fig unless they had been set free by
the teeth and belly of some “elect saint”79! And, wretch that I was, I believed that
more mercy was to be shown to the fruits of the earth than unto men, for whom
these fruits were created. For, if a hungry man--who was not a Manichean--should
beg for any food, the morsel that we gave to him would seem condemned, as it were,
to capital punishment.
CHAPTER XI
19. And now thou didst “stretch forth thy hand from above”80 and didst draw
up my soul out of that profound darkness [of Manicheism] because my mother, thy
faithful one, wept to thee on my behalf more than mothers are accustomed to weep
for the bodily deaths of their children. For by the light of the faith and spirit which
she received from thee, she saw that I was dead. And thou didst hear her, O Lord,
thou didst hear her and despised not her tears when, pouring down, they watered
the earth under her eyes in every place where she prayed. Thou didst truly hear
her.
For what other source was there for that dream by which thou didst console
her, so that she permitted me to live with her, to have my meals in the same house
at the table which she had begun to avoid, even while she hated and detested the
blasphemies of my error? In her dream she saw herself standing on a sort of wooden
rule, and saw a bright youth approaching her, joyous and smiling at her, while she
was grieving and bowed down with sorrow. But when he inquired of her the cause of
her sorrow and daily weeping (not to learn from her, but to teach her, as is
customary in visions), and when she answered that it was my soul’s doom she was
lamenting, he bade her rest content and told her to look and see that where she was
there I was also. And when she looked she saw me standing near her on the same
rule.
Whence came this vision unless it was that thy ears were inclined toward her
78An example of this which Augustine doubtless had in mind is God's command to Abraham to offer
up his son Isaac as a human sacrifice. Cf. Gen. 22:1, 2.
79Electi sancti. Another Manichean term for the perfecti, the elite and "perfect" among them.
80Ps. 144:7.
heart? O thou Omnipotent Good, thou carest for every one of us as if thou didst care
for him only, and so for all as if they were but one!
20. And what was the reason for this also, that, when she told me of this
vision, and I tried to put this construction on it: “that she should not despair of
being someday what I was,” she replied immediately, without hesitation, “No; for it
was not told me that ‘where he is, there you shall be’ but ‘where you are, there he
will be’“? I confess my remembrance of this to thee, O Lord, as far as I can recall it-and I have often mentioned it. Thy answer, given through my watchful mother, in
the fact that she was not disturbed by the plausibility of my false interpretation but
saw immediately what should have been seen--and which I certainly had not seen
until she spoke--this answer moved me more deeply than the dream itself. Still, by
that dream, the joy that was to come to that pious woman so long after was
predicted long before, as a consolation for her present anguish.
Nearly nine years passed in which I wallowed in the mud of that deep pit and
in the darkness of falsehood, striving often to rise, but being all the more heavily
dashed down. But all that time this chaste, pious, and sober widow--such as thou
dost love--was now more buoyed up with hope, though no less zealous in her
weeping and mourning; and she did not cease to bewail my case before thee, in all
the hours of her supplication. Her prayers entered thy presence, and yet thou didst
allow me still to tumble and toss around in that darkness.
CHAPTER XII
21. Meanwhile, thou gavest her yet another answer, as I remember--for I pass
over many things, hastening on to those things which more strongly impel me to
confess to thee--and many things I have simply forgotten. But thou gavest her then
another answer, by a priest of thine, a certain bishop reared in thy Church and well
versed in thy books. When that woman had begged him to agree to have some
discussion with me, to refute my errors, to help me to unlearn evil and to learn the
good81-- for it was his habit to do this when he found people ready to receive it--he
refused, very prudently, as I afterward realized. For he answered that I was still
unteachable, being inflated with the novelty of that heresy, and that I had already
perplexed divers inexperienced persons with vexatious questions, as she herself had
told him. “But let him alone for a time,” he said, “only pray God for him. He will of
his own accord, by reading, come to discover what an error it is and how great its
impiety is.” He went on to tell her at the same time how he himself, as a boy, had
been given over to the Manicheans by his misguided mother and not only had read
but had even copied out almost all their books. Yet he had come to see, without
external argument or proof from anyone else, how much that sect was to be
shunned--and had shunned it. When he had said this she was not satisfied, but
repeated more earnestly her entreaties, and shed copious tears, still beseeching him
to see and talk with me. Finally the bishop, a little vexed at her importunity,
exclaimed, “Go your way; as you live, it cannot be that the son of these tears should
perish.” As she often told me afterward, she accepted this answer as though it were
a voice from heaven.
81Dedocere me mala ac docere bona; a typical Augustinian wordplay.
BOOK FOUR
This is the story of his years among the Manicheans. It includes the account of his
teaching at Tagaste, his taking a mistress, the attractions of astrology, the poignant
loss of a friend which leads to a searching analysis of grief and transience. He
reports on his first book, De pulchro et apto, and his introduction to Aristotle’s
Categories and other books of philosophy and theology, which he mastered with
great ease and little profit.
CHAPTER I
1. During this period of nine years, from my nineteenth year to my twentyeighth, I went astray and led others astray. I was deceived and deceived others, in
varied lustful projects--sometimes publicly, by the teaching of what men style “the
liberal arts”; sometimes secretly, under the false guise of religion. In the one, I was
proud of myself; in the other, superstitious; in all, vain! In my public life I was
striving after the emptiness of popular fame, going so far as to seek theatrical
applause, entering poetic contests, striving for the straw garlands and the vanity of
theatricals and intemperate desires. In my private life I was seeking to be purged
from these corruptions of ours by carrying food to those who were called “elect” and
“holy,” which, in the laboratory of their stomachs, they should make into angels and
gods for us, and by them we might be set free. These projects I followed out and
practiced with my friends, who were both deceived with me and by me. Let the
proud laugh at me, and those who have not yet been savingly cast down and
stricken by thee, O my God. Nevertheless, I would confess to thee my shame to thy
glory. Bear with me, I beseech thee, and give me the grace to retrace in my present
memory the devious ways of my past errors and thus be able to “offer to thee the
sacrifice of thanksgiving.”82 For what am I to myself without thee but a guide to my
own downfall? Or what am I, even at the best, but one suckled on thy milk and
feeding on thee, O Food that never perishes?83 What indeed is any man, seeing that
he is but a man? Therefore, let the strong and the mighty laugh at us, but let us
who are “poor and needy”84 confess to thee.
CHAPTER II
2. During those years I taught the art of rhetoric. Conquered by the desire for
gain, I offered for sale speaking skills with which to conquer others. And yet, O
Lord, thou knowest that I really preferred to have honest scholars (or what were
esteemed as such) and, without tricks of speech, I taught these scholars the tricks of
speech--not to be used against the life of the innocent, but sometimes to save the life
of a guilty man. And thou, O God, didst see me from afar, stumbling on that slippery
path and sending out some flashes of fidelity amid much smoke--guiding those who
loved vanity and sought after lying,85 being myself their companion.
In those years I had a mistress, to whom I was not joined in lawful marriage.
She was a woman I had discovered in my wayward passion, void as it was of
82Ps. 50:14.
83Cf. John 6:27.
84Ps. 74:21.
85Cf. Ps. 4:2.
understanding, yet she was the only one; and I remained faithful to her and with
her I discovered, by my own experience, what a great difference there is between the
restraint of the marriage bond contracted with a view to having children and the
compact of a lustful love, where children are born against the parents’ will-although once they are born they compel our love.
3. I remember too that, when I decided to compete for a theatrical prize, some
magician--I do not remember him now--asked me what I would give him to be
certain to win. But I detested and abominated such filthy mysteries,86 and
answered “that, even if the garland was of imperishable gold, I would still not
permit a fly to be killed to win it for me.” For he would have slain certain living
creatures in his sacrifices, and by those honors would have invited the devils to help
me. This evil thing I refused, but not out of a pure love of thee, O God of my heart,
for I knew not how to love thee because I knew not how to conceive of anything
beyond corporeal splendors. And does not a soul, sighing after such idle fictions,
commit fornication against thee, trust in false things, and “feed on the winds”87?
But still I would not have sacrifices offered to devils on my behalf, though I was
myself still offering them sacrifices of a sort by my own [Manichean] superstition.
For what else is it “to feed on the winds” but to feed on the devils, that is, in our
wanderings to become their sport and mockery?
CHAPTER III
4. And yet, without scruple, I consulted those other impostors, whom they call
“astrologers” [mathematicos], because they used no sacrifices and invoked the aid of
no spirit for their divinations. Still, true Christian piety must necessarily reject and
condemn their art.
It is good to confess to thee and to say, “Have mercy on me; heal my soul; for I
have sinned against thee”88--not to abuse thy goodness as a license to sin, but to
remember the words of the Lord, “Behold, you are made whole: sin no more, lest a
worse thing befall you.”89 All this wholesome advice [the astrologers] labor to
destroy when they say, “The cause of your sin is inevitably fixed in the heavens,”
and, “This is the doing of Venus, or of Saturn, or of Mars”--all this in order that a
man, who is only flesh and blood and proud corruption, may regard himself as
blameless, while the Creator and Ordainer of heaven and the stars must bear the
blame of our ills and misfortunes. But who is this Creator but thou, our God, the
sweetness and wellspring of righteousness, who renderest to every man according to
his works and despisest not “a broken and a contrite heart”90?
5. There was at that time a wise man, very skillful and quite famous in
medicine.91 He was proconsul then, and with his own hand he placed on my
distempered head the crown I had won in a rhetorical contest. He did not do this as
a physician, however; and for this distemper “only thou canst heal who resisteth the
proud and giveth grace to the humble.”92 But didst thou fail me in that old man, or
forbear from healing my soul? Actually when I became better acquainted with him, I
86The rites of the soothsayers, in which animals were killed, for auguries and propitiation of the
gods.
87Cf. Hos. 12:1.
88Ps. 41:4.
89John 5:14.
90Ps. 51:17.
91Vindicianus; see below, Bk. VII, Ch. VI, 8.
92James 4:6; 1 Peter 5:5.
used to listen, rapt and eager, to his words; for, though he spoke in simple language,
his conversation was replete with vivacity, life, and earnestness. He recognized from
my own talk that I was given to books of the horoscope-casters, but he, in a kind and
fatherly way, advised me to throw them away and not to spend idly on these
vanities care and labor that might otherwise go into useful things. He said that he
himself in his earlier years had studied the astrologers’ art with a view to gaining
his living by it as a profession. Since he had already understood Hippocrates, he was
fully qualified to understand this too. Yet, he had given it up and followed medicine
for the simple reason that he had discovered astrology to be utterly false and, as a
man of honest character, he was unwilling to gain his living by beguiling people.
“But you,” he said, “have the profession of rhetoric to support yourself by, so that
you are following this delusion in free will and not necessity. All the more, therefore,
you ought to believe me, since I worked at it to learn the art perfectly because I
wished to gain my living by it.” When I asked him to account for the fact that many
true things are foretold by astrology, he answered me, reasonably enough, that the
force of chance, diffused through the whole order of nature, brought these things
about. For when a man, by accident, opens the leaves of some poet (who sang and
intended something far different) a verse oftentimes turns out to be wondrously
apposite to the reader’s present business. “It is not to be wondered at,” he continued,
“if out of the human mind, by some higher instinct which does not know what goes
on within itself, an answer should be arrived at, by chance and not art, which would
fit both the business and the action of the inquirer.”
6. And thus truly, either by him or through him, thou wast looking after me.
And thou didst fix all this in my memory so that afterward I might search it out for
myself.
But at that time, neither the proconsul nor my most dear Nebridius--a
splendid youth and most circumspect, who scoffed at the whole business of
divination--could persuade me to give it up, for the authority of the astrological
authors influenced me more than they did. And, thus far, I had come upon no
certain proof--such as I sought--by which it could be shown without doubt that what
had been truly foretold by those consulted came from accident or chance, and not
from the art of the stargazers.
CHAPTER IV
7. In those years, when I first began to teach rhetoric in my native town, I
had gained a very dear friend, about my own age, who was associated with me in
the same studies. Like myself, he was just rising up into the flower of youth. He had
grown up with me from childhood and we had been both school fellows and
playmates. But he was not then my friend, nor indeed ever became my friend, in the
true sense of the term; for there is no true friendship save between those thou dost
bind together and who cleave to thee by that love which is “shed abroad in our
hearts through the Holy Spirit who is given to us.”93 Still, it was a sweet friendship,
being ripened by the zeal of common studies. Moreover, I had turned him away from
the true faith--which he had not soundly and thoroughly mastered as a youth--and
turned him toward those superstitious and harmful fables which my mother
mourned in me. With me this man went wandering off in error and my soul could
not exist without him. But behold thou wast close behind thy fugitives--at once a
God of vengeance and a Fountain of mercies, who dost turn us to thyself by ways
that make us marvel. Thus, thou didst take that man out of this life when he had
93Rom. 5:5.
scarcely completed one whole year of friendship with me, sweeter to me than all the
sweetness of my life thus far.
8. Who can show forth all thy praise94 for that which he has experienced in
himself alone? What was it that thou didst do at that time, O my God; how
unsearchable are the depths of thy judgments! For when, sore sick of a fever, he
long lay unconscious in a death sweat and everyone despaired of his recovery, he
was baptized without his knowledge. And I myself cared little, at the time,
presuming that his soul would retain what it had taken from me rather than what
was done to his unconscious body. It turned out, however, far differently, for he was
revived and restored. Immediately, as soon as I could talk to him--and I did this as
soon as he was able, for I never left him and we hung on each other overmuch--I
tried to jest with him, supposing that he also would jest in return about that
baptism which he had received when his mind and senses were inactive, but which
he had since learned that he had received. But he recoiled from me, as if I were his
enemy, and, with a remarkable and unexpected freedom, he admonished me that, if
I desired to continue as his friend, I must cease to say such things. Confounded and
confused, I concealed my feelings till he should get well and his health recover
enough to allow me to deal with him as I wished. But he was snatched away from
my madness, that with thee he might be preserved for my consolation. A few days
after, during my absence, the fever returned and he died.
9. My heart was utterly darkened by this sorrow and everywhere I looked I
saw death. My native place was a torture room to me and my father’s house a
strange unhappiness. And all the things I had done with him--now that he was
gone--became a frightful torment. My eyes sought him everywhere, but they did not
see him; and I hated all places because he was not in them, because they could not
say to me, “Look, he is coming,” as they did when he was alive and absent. I became
a hard riddle to myself, and I asked my soul why she was so downcast and why this
disquieted me so sorely.95 But she did not know how to answer me. And if I said,
“Hope thou in God,”96 she very properly disobeyed me, because that dearest friend
she had lost was as an actual man, both truer and better than the imagined deity
she was ordered to put her hope in. Nothing but tears were sweet to me and they
took my friend’s place in my heart’s desire.
CHAPTER V
10. But now, O Lord, these things are past and time has healed my wound.
Let me learn from thee, who art Truth, and put the ear of my heart to thy mouth,
that thou mayest tell me why weeping should be so sweet to the unhappy. Hast
thou--though omnipresent--dismissed our miseries from thy concern? Thou abidest
in thyself while we are disquieted with trial after trial. Yet unless we wept in thy
ears, there would be no hope for us remaining. How does it happen that such sweet
fruit is plucked from the bitterness of life, from groans, tears, sighs, and
lamentations? Is it the hope that thou wilt hear us that sweetens it? This is true in
the case of prayer, for in a prayer there is a desire to approach thee. But is it also
the case in grief for a lost love, and in the kind of sorrow that had then overwhelmed
me? For I had neither a hope of his coming back to life, nor in all my tears did I seek
this. I simply grieved and wept, for I was miserable and had lost my joy. Or is
weeping a bitter thing that gives us pleasure because of our aversion to the things
94Cf. Ps. 106:2.
95Cf. Ps. 42:5; 43:5.
96Ibid.
we once enjoyed and this only as long as we loathe them?
CHAPTER VI
11. But why do I speak of these things? Now is not the time to ask such
questions, but rather to confess to thee. I was wretched; and every soul is wretched
that is fettered in the friendship of mortal things--it is torn to pieces when it loses
them, and then realizes the misery which it had even before it lost them. Thus it
was at that time with me. I wept most bitterly, and found a rest in bitterness. I was
wretched, and yet that wretched life I still held dearer than my friend. For though I
would willingly have changed it, I was still more unwilling to lose it than to have
lost him. Indeed, I doubt whether I was willing to lose it, even for him--as they tell
(unless it be fiction) of the friendship of Orestes and Pylades97; they would have
gladly died for one another, or both together, because not to love together was worse
than death to them. But a strange kind of feeling had come over me, quite different
from this, for now it was wearisome to live and a fearful thing to die. I suppose that
the more I loved him the more I hated and feared, as the most cruel enemy, that
death which had robbed me of him. I even imagined that it would suddenly
annihilate all men, since it had had such a power over him. This is the way I
remember it was with me.
Look into my heart, O God! Behold and look deep within me, for I remember
it well, O my Hope who cleansest me from the uncleanness of such affections,
directing my eyes toward thee and plucking my feet out of the snare. And I
marveled that other mortals went on living since he whom I had loved as if he
would never die was now dead. And I marveled all the more that I, who had been a
second self to him, could go on living when he was dead. Someone spoke rightly of
his friend as being “his soul’s other half” 98--for I felt that my soul and his soul were
but one soul in two bodies. Consequently, my life was now a horror to me because I
did not want to live as a half self. But it may have been that I was afraid to die, lest
he should then die wholly whom I had so greatly loved.
CHAPTER VII
12. O madness that knows not how to love men as they should be loved! O
foolish man that I was then, enduring with so much rebellion the lot of every man!
Thus I fretted, sighed, wept, tormented myself, and took neither rest nor counsel,
for I was dragging around my torn and bloody soul. It was impatient of my dragging
it around, and yet I could not find a place to lay it down. Not in pleasant groves, nor
in sport or song, nor in fragrant bowers, nor in magnificent banquetings, nor in the
pleasures of the bed or the couch; not even in books or poetry did it find rest. All
things looked gloomy, even the very light itself. Whatsoever was not what he was,
was now repulsive and hateful, except my groans and tears, for in those alone I
found a little rest. But when my soul left off weeping, a heavy burden of misery
weighed me down. It should have been raised up to thee, O Lord, for thee to lighten
and to lift. This I knew, but I was neither willing nor able to do; especially since, in
my thoughts of thee, thou wast not thyself but only an empty fantasm. Thus my
error was my god. If I tried to cast off my burden on this fantasm, that it might find
rest there, it sank through the vacuum and came rushing down again upon me.
97Cf. Ovid, Tristia, IV, 4:74.
98Cf. Horace, Ode I, 3:8, where he speaks of Virgil, et serves animae dimidium meae. Augustine's
memory changes the text here to dimidium animae suae.
Thus I remained to myself an unhappy lodging where I could neither stay nor leave.
For where could my heart fly from my heart? Where could I fly from my own self?
Where would I not follow myself? And yet I did flee from my native place so that my
eyes would look for him less in a place where they were not accustomed to see him.
Thus I left the town of Tagaste and returned to Carthage.
CHAPTER VIII
13. Time never lapses, nor does it glide at leisure through our sense
perceptions. It does strange things in the mind. Lo, time came and went from day to
day, and by coming and going it brought to my mind other ideas and remembrances,
and little by little they patched me up again with earlier kinds of pleasure and my
sorrow yielded a bit to them. But yet there followed after this sorrow, not other
sorrows just like it, but the causes of other sorrows. For why had that first sorrow so
easily penetrated to the quick except that I had poured out my soul onto the dust, by
loving a man as if he would never die who nevertheless had to die? What revived
and refreshed me, more than anything else, was the consolation of other friends,
with whom I went on loving the things I loved instead of thee. This was a monstrous
fable and a tedious lie which was corrupting my soul with its “itching ears”99 by its
adulterous rubbing. And that fable would not die to me as often as one of my friends
died. And there were other things in our companionship that took strong hold of my
mind: to discourse and jest with him; to indulge in courteous exchanges; to read
pleasant books together; to trifle together; to be earnest together; to differ at times
without ill-humor, as a man might do with himself, and even through these
infrequent dissensions to find zest in our more frequent agreements; sometimes
teaching, sometimes being taught; longing for someone absent with impatience and
welcoming the homecomer with joy. These and similar tokens of friendship, which
spring spontaneously from the hearts of those who love and are loved in return--in
countenance, tongue, eyes, and a thousand ingratiating gestures--were all so much
fuel to melt our souls together, and out of the many made us one.
CHAPTER IX
14. This is what we love in our friends, and we love it so much that a man’s
conscience accuses itself if he does not love one who loves him, or respond in love to
love, seeking nothing from the other but the evidences of his love. This is the source
of our moaning when one dies--the gloom of sorrow, the steeping of the heart in
tears, all sweetness turned to bitterness--and the feeling of death in the living,
because of the loss of the life of the dying.
Blessed is he who loves thee, and who loves his friend in thee, and his enemy
also, for thy sake; for he alone loses none dear to him, if all are dear in Him who
cannot be lost. And who is this but our God: the God that created heaven and earth,
and filled them because he created them by filling them up? None loses thee but he
who leaves thee; and he who leaves thee, where does he go, or where can he flee but
from thee well-pleased to thee offended? For where does he not find thy law fulfilled
in his own punishment? “Thy law is the truth”100 and thou art Truth.
CHAPTER X
992 Tim. 4:3.
100Ps. 119:142.
15. “Turn us again, O Lord God of Hosts, cause thy face to shine; and we shall
be saved.” 101 For wherever the soul of man turns itself, unless toward thee, it is
enmeshed in sorrows, even though it is surrounded by beautiful things outside thee
and outside itself. For lovely things would simply not be unless they were from thee.
They come to be and they pass away, and by coming they begin to be, and they grow
toward perfection. Then, when perfect, they begin to wax old and perish, and, if all
do not wax old, still all perish. Therefore, when they rise and grow toward being, the
more rapidly they grow to maturity, so also the more rapidly they hasten back
toward nonbeing. This is the way of things. This is the lot thou hast given them,
because they are part of things which do not all exist at the same time, but by
passing away and succeeding each other they all make up the universe, of which
they are all parts. For example, our speech is accomplished by sounds which signify
meanings, but a meaning is not complete unless one word passes away, when it has
sounded its part, so that the next may follow after it. Let my soul praise thee, in all
these things, O God, the Creator of all; but let not my soul be stuck to these things
by the glue of love, through the senses of the body. For they go where they were
meant to go, that they may exist no longer. And they rend the soul with pestilent
desires because she longs to be and yet loves to rest secure in the created things she
loves. But in these things there is no resting place to be found. They do not abide.
They flee away; and who is he who can follow them with his physical senses? Or
who can grasp them, even when they are present? For our physical sense is slow
because it is a physical sense and bears its own limitations in itself. The physical
sense is quite sufficient for what it was made to do; but it is not sufficient to stay
things from running their courses from the beginning appointed to the end
appointed. For in thy word, by which they were created, they hear their appointed
bound: “From there--to here!”
CHAPTER XI
16. Be not foolish, O my soul, and do not let the tumult of your vanity deafen
the ear of your heart. Be attentive. The Word itself calls you to return, and with him
is a place of unperturbed rest, where love is not forsaken unless it first forsakes.
Behold, these things pass away that others may come to be in their place. Thus even
this lowest level of unity 102 may be made complete in all its parts. “But do I ever
pass away?” asks the Word of God. Fix your habitation in him. O my soul, commit
whatsoever you have to him. For at long last you are now becoming tired of deceit.
Commit to truth whatever you have received from the truth, and you will lose
nothing. What is decayed will flourish again; your diseases will be healed; your
perishable parts shall be reshaped and renovated, and made whole again in you.
And these perishable things will not carry you with them down to where they go
when they perish, but shall stand and abide, and you with them, before God, who
abides and continues forever.
17. Why then, my perverse soul, do you go on following your flesh? Instead,
let it be converted so as to follow you. Whatever you feel through it is but partial.
You do not know the whole, of which sensations are but parts; and yet the parts
delight you. But if my physical senses had been able to comprehend the whole--and
had not as a part of their punishment received only a portion of the whole as their
own province--you would then desire that whatever exists in the present time
should also pass away so that the whole might please you more. For what we speak,
101Ps. 80:3.
102That is, our physical universe.
you also hear through physical sensation, and yet you would not wish that the
syllables should remain. Instead, you wish them to fly past so that others may
follow them, and the whole be heard. Thus it is always that when any single thing is
composed of many parts which do not coexist simultaneously, the whole gives more
delight than the parts could ever do perceived separately. But far better than all
this is He who made it all. He is our God and he does not pass away, for there is
nothing to take his place.
CHAPTER XII
18. If physical objects please you, praise God for them, but turn back your
love to their Creator, lest, in those things which please you, you displease him. If
souls please you, let them be loved in God; for in themselves they are mutable, but
in him firmly established--without him they would simply cease to exist. In him,
then, let them be loved; and bring along to him with yourself as many souls as you
can, and say to them: “Let us love him, for he himself created all these, and he is not
far away from them. For he did not create them, and then go away. They are of him
and in him. Behold, there he is, wherever truth is known. He is within the inmost
heart, yet the heart has wandered away from him. Return to your heart, O you
transgressors, and hold fast to him who made you. Stand with him and you shall
stand fast. Rest in him and you shall be at rest. Where do you go along these rugged
paths? Where are you going? The good that you love is from him, and insofar as it is
also for him, it is both good and pleasant. But it will rightly be turned to bitterness
if whatever comes from him is not rightly loved and if he is deserted for the love of
the creature. Why then will you wander farther and farther in these difficult and
toilsome ways? There is no rest where you seek it. Seek what you seek; but
remember that it is not where you seek it. You seek for a blessed life in the land of
death. It is not there. For how can there be a blessed life where life itself is not?”
19. But our very Life came down to earth and bore our death, and slew it with
the very abundance of his own life. And, thundering, he called us to return to him
into that secret place from which he came forth to us--coming first into the virginal
womb, where the human creature, our mortal flesh, was joined to him that it might
not be forever mortal--and came “as a bridegroom coming out his chamber, rejoicing
as a strong man to run a race.”103 For he did not delay, but ran through the world,
crying out by words, deeds, death, life, descent, ascension--crying aloud to us to
return to him. And he departed from our sight that we might return to our hearts
and find him there. For he left us, and behold, he is here. He could not be with us
long, yet he did not leave us. He went back to the place that he had never left, for
“the world was made by him.”104 In this world he was, and into this world he came,
to save sinners. To him my soul confesses, and he heals it, because it had sinned
against him. O sons of men, how long will you be so slow of heart? Even now after
Life itself has come down to you, will you not ascend and live? But where will you
climb if you are already on a pinnacle and have set your mouth against the
heavens? First come down that you may climb up, climb up to God. For you have
fallen by trying to climb against him. Tell this to the souls you love that they may
weep in the valley of tears, and so bring them along with you to God, because it is by
his spirit that you speak thus to them, if, as you speak, you burn with the fire of
love.
103Ps. 19:5.
104John 1:10.
CHAPTER XIII
20. These things I did not understand at that time, and I loved those inferior
beauties, and I was sinking down to the very depths. And I said to my friends: “Do
we love anything but the beautiful? What then is the beautiful? And what is beauty?
What is it that allures and unites us to the things we love; for unless there were a
grace and beauty in them, they could not possibly attract us to them?” And I
reflected on this and saw that in the objects themselves there is a kind of beauty
which comes from their forming a whole and another kind of beauty that comes
from mutual fitness--as the harmony of one part of the body with its whole, or a
shoe with a foot, and so on. And this idea sprang up in my mind out of my inmost
heart, and I wrote some books--two or three, I think--On the Beautiful and the
Fitting. 105 Thou knowest them, O Lord; they have escaped my memory. I no longer
have them; somehow they have been mislaid.
CHAPTER XIV
21. What was it, O Lord my God, that prompted me to dedicate these books to
Hierius, an orator of Rome, a man I did not know by sight but whom I loved for his
reputation of learning, in which he was famous--and also for some words of his that
I had heard which had pleased me? But he pleased me more because he pleased
others, who gave him high praise and expressed amazement that a Syrian, who had
first studied Greek eloquence, should thereafter become so wonderful a Latin orator
and also so well versed in philosophy. Thus a man we have never seen is
commended and loved. Does a love like this come into the heart of the hearer from
the mouth of him who sings the other’s praise? Not so. Instead, one catches the
spark of love from one who loves. This is why we love one who is praised when the
eulogist is believed to give his praise from an unfeigned heart; that is, when he who
loves him praises him.
22. Thus it was that I loved men on the basis of other men’s judgment, and
not thine, O my God, in whom no man is deceived. But why is it that the feeling I
had for such men was not like my feeling toward the renowned charioteer, or the
great gladiatorial hunter, famed far and wide and popular with the mob? Actually, I
admired the orator in a different and more serious fashion, as I would myself desire
to be admired. For I did not want them to praise and love me as actors were praised
and loved--although I myself praise and love them too. I would prefer being
unknown than known in that way, or even being hated than loved that way. How
are these various influences and divers sorts of loves distributed within one soul?
What is it that I am in love with in another which, if I did not hate, I should neither
detest nor repel from myself, seeing that we are equally men? For it does not follow
that because the good horse is admired by a man who would not be that horse--even
if he could--the same kind of admiration should be given to an actor, who shares our
nature. Do I then love that in a man, which I also, a man, would hate to be? Man is
himself a great deep. Thou dost number his very hairs, O Lord, and they do not fall
to the ground without thee, and yet the hairs of his head are more readily numbered
than are his affections and the movements of his heart.
23. But that orator whom I admired so much was the kind of man I wished
myself to be. Thus I erred through a swelling pride and “was carried about with
105De pulchro et apto; a lost essay with no other record save echoes in the rest of Augustine's
aesthetic theories. Cf. The Nature of the Good Against the Manicheans, VIII-XV; City of God, XI, 18;
De ordine, I, 7:18; II, 19:51; Enchiridion, III, 10; I, 5.
every wind,”106 but through it all I was being piloted by thee, though most secretly.
And how is it that I know--whence comes my confident confession to thee--that I
loved him more because of the love of those who praised him than for the things
they praised in him? Because if he had gone unpraised, and these same people had
criticized him and had spoken the same things of him in a tone of scorn and
disapproval, I should never have been kindled and provoked to love him. And yet his
qualities would not have been different, nor would he have been different himself;
only the appraisals of the spectators. See where the helpless soul lies prostrate that
is not yet sustained by the stability of truth! Just as the breezes of speech blow from
the breast of the opinionated, so also the soul is tossed this way and that, driven
forward and backward, and the light is obscured to it and the truth not seen. And
yet, there it is in front of us. And to me it was a great matter that both my literary
work and my zest for learning should be known by that man. For if he approved
them, I would be even more fond of him; but if he disapproved, this vain heart of
mine, devoid of thy steadfastness, would have been offended. And so I meditated on
the problem “of the beautiful and the fitting” and dedicated my essay on it to him. I
regarded it admiringly, though no one else joined me in doing so.
CHAPTER XV
24. But I had not seen how the main point in these great issues [concerning
the nature of beauty] lay really in thy craftsmanship, O Omnipotent One, “who
alone doest great wonders.”107 And so my mind ranged through the corporeal forms,
and I defined and distinguished as “beautiful” that which is so in itself and as “fit”
that which is beautiful in relation to some other thing. This argument I supported
by corporeal examples. And I turned my attention to the nature of the mind, but the
false opinions which I held concerning spiritual things prevented me from seeing
the truth. Still, the very power of truth forced itself on my gaze, and I turned my
throbbing soul away from incorporeal substance to qualities of line and color and
shape, and, because I could not perceive these with my mind, I concluded that I
could not perceive my mind. And since I loved the peace which is in virtue, and
hated the discord which is in vice, I distinguished between the unity there is in
virtue and the discord there is in vice. I conceived that unity consisted of the
rational soul and the nature of truth and the highest good. But I imagined that in
the disunity there was some kind of substance of irrational life and some kind of
entity in the supreme evil. This evil I thought was not only a substance but real life
as well, and yet I believed that it did not come from thee, O my God, from whom are
all things. And the first I called a Monad, as if it were a soul without sex. The other
I called a Dyad, which showed itself in anger in deeds of violence, in deeds of
passion and lust--but I did not know what I was talking about. For I had not
understood nor had I been taught that evil is not a substance at all and that our
soul is not that supreme and unchangeable good.
25. For just as in violent acts, if the emotion of the soul from whence the
violent impulse springs is depraved and asserts itself insolently and mutinously-and just as in the acts of passion, if the affection of the soul which gives rise to
carnal desires is unrestrained--so also, in the same way, errors and false opinions
contaminate life if the rational soul itself is depraved. Thus it was then with me, for
I was ignorant that my soul had to be enlightened by another light, if it was to be
partaker of the truth, since it is not itself the essence of truth. “For thou wilt light
106Eph. 4:14.
107Ps. 72:18.
my lamp; the Lord my God will lighten my darkness”108; and “of his fullness have
we all received,”109 for “that was the true Light that lighteth every man that cometh
into the world”110; for “in thee there is no variableness, neither shadow of
turning.”111
26. But I pushed on toward thee, and was pressed back by thee that I might
know the taste of death, for “thou resistest the proud.”112 And what greater pride
could there be for me than, with a marvelous madness, to assert myself to be that
nature which thou art? I was mutable--this much was clear enough to me because
my very longing to become wise arose out of a wish to change from worse to better-yet I chose rather to think thee mutable than to think that I was not as thou art.
For this reason I was thrust back; thou didst resist my fickle pride. Thus I went on
imagining corporeal forms, and, since I was flesh I accused the flesh, and, since I
was “a wind that passes away,” 113 I did not return to thee but went wandering and
wandering on toward those things that have no being--neither in thee nor in me, nor
in the body. These fancies were not created for me by thy truth but conceived by my
own vain conceit out of sensory notions. And I used to ask thy faithful children--my
own fellow citizens, from whom I stood unconsciously exiled--I used flippantly and
foolishly to ask them, “Why, then, does the soul, which God created, err?” But I
would not allow anyone to ask me, “Why, then, does God err?” I preferred to contend
that thy immutable substance was involved in error through necessity rather than
admit that my own mutable substance had gone astray of its own free will and had
fallen into error as its punishment.
27. I was about twenty-six or twenty-seven when I wrote those books,
analyzing and reflecting upon those sensory images which clamored in the ears of
my heart. I was straining those ears to hear thy inward melody, O sweet Truth,
pondering on “the beautiful and the fitting” and longing to stay and hear thee, and
to rejoice greatly at “the Bridegroom’s voice.”114 Yet I could not, for by the clamor of
my own errors I was hurried outside myself, and by the weight of my own pride I
was sinking ever lower. You did not “make me to hear joy and gladness,” nor did the
bones rejoice which were not yet humbled.115
28. And what did it profit me that, when I was scarcely twenty years old, a
book of Aristotle’s entitled The Ten Categories 116 fell into my hands? On the very
title of this I hung as on something great and divine, since my rhetoric master at
Carthage and others who had reputations for learning were always referring to it
with such swelling pride. I read it by myself and understood it. And what did it
mean that when I discussed it with others they said that even with the assistance of
tutors--who not only explained it orally, but drew many diagrams in the sand--they
scarcely understood it and could tell me no more about it than I had acquired in the
reading of it by myself alone? For the book appeared to me to speak plainly enough
about substances, such as a man; and of their qualities, such as the shape of a man,
108Ps. 18:28.
109John 1:16.
110John 1:9.
111Cf. James 1:17.
112Cf. James 4:6; 1 Peter 5:5.
113Ps. 78:39.
114Cf. Jer. 25:10; 33:11; John 3:29; Rev. 18:23.
115Cf. Ps. 51:8.
116The first section of the Organon, which analyzes the problem of predication and develops "the ten
categories" of essence and the nine "accidents." This existed in a Latin translation by Victorinus, who
also translated the Enneads of Plotinus, to which Augustine refers infra, Bk. VIII, Ch. II, 3.
his kind, his stature, how many feet high, and his family relationship, his status,
when born, whether he is sitting or standing, is shod or armed, or is doing
something or having something done to him--and all the innumerable things that
are classified under these nine categories (of which I have given some examples) or
under the chief category of substance.
29. What did all this profit me, since it actually hindered me when I imagined
that whatever existed was comprehended within those ten categories? I tried to
interpret them, O my God, so that even thy wonderful and unchangeable unity
could be understood as subjected to thy own magnitude or beauty, as if they existed
in thee as their Subject--as they do in corporeal bodies--whereas thou art thyself thy
own magnitude and beauty. A body is not great or fair because it is a body, because,
even if it were less great or less beautiful, it would still be a body. But my
conception of thee was falsity, not truth. It was a figment of my own misery, not the
stable ground of thy blessedness. For thou hadst commanded, and it was carried out
in me, that the earth should bring forth briars and thorns for me, and that with
heavy labor I should gain my bread.117
30. And what did it profit me that I could read and understand for myself all
the books I could get in the so-called “liberal arts,” when I was actually a worthless
slave of wicked lust? I took delight in them, not knowing the real source of what it
was in them that was true and certain. For I had my back toward the light, and my
face toward the things on which the light falls, so that my face, which looked toward
the illuminated things, was not itself illuminated. Whatever was written in any of
the fields of rhetoric or logic, geometry, music, or arithmetic, I could understand
without any great difficulty and without the instruction of another man. All this
thou knowest, O Lord my God, because both quickness in understanding and
acuteness in insight are thy gifts. Yet for such gifts I made no thank offering to
thee. Therefore, my abilities served not my profit but rather my loss, since I went
about trying to bring so large a part of my substance into my own power. And I did
not store up my strength for thee, but went away from thee into the far country to
prostitute my gifts in disordered appetite.118 And what did these abilities profit me,
if I did not put them to good use? I did not realize that those arts were understood
with great difficulty, even by the studious and the intelligent, until I tried to explain
them to others and discovered that even the most proficient in them followed my
explanations all too slowly.
31. And yet what did this profit me, since I still supposed that thou, O Lord
God, the Truth, wert a bright and vast body and that I was a particle of that body?
O perversity gone too far! But so it was with me. And I do not blush, O my God, to
confess thy mercies to me in thy presence, or to call upon thee--any more than I did
not blush when I openly avowed my blasphemies before men, and bayed, houndlike,
against thee. What good was it for me that my nimble wit could run through those
studies and disentangle all those knotty volumes, without help from a human
teacher, since all the while I was erring so hatefully and with such sacrilege as far
as the right substance of pious faith was concerned? And what kind of burden was it
for thy little ones to have a far slower wit, since they did not use it to depart from
thee, and since they remained in the nest of thy Church to become safely fledged
and to nourish the wings of love by the food of a sound faith.
O Lord our God, under the shadow of thy wings let us hope--defend us and
support us.119 Thou wilt bear us up when we are little and even down to our gray
117Cf. Gen. 3:18.
118Again, the Prodigal Son theme; cf. Luke 15:13.
119Cf. Ps. 17:8.
hairs thou wilt carry us. For our stability, when it is in thee, is stability indeed; but
when it is in ourselves, then it is all unstable. Our good lives forever with thee, and
when we turn from thee with aversion, we fall into our own perversion. Let us now,
O Lord, return that we be not overturned, because with thee our good lives without
blemish--for our good is thee thyself. And we need not fear that we shall find no
place to return to because we fell away from it. For, in our absence, our home--which
is thy eternity--does not fall away.
BOOK FIVE
A year of decision. Faustus comes to Carthage and Augustine is disenchanted in his
hope for solid demonstration of the truth of Manichean doctrine. He decides to flee
from his known troubles at Carthage to troubles yet unknown at Rome. His
experiences at Rome prove disappointing and he applies for a teaching post at Milan.
Here he meets Ambrose, who confronts him as an impressive witness for Catholic
Christianity and opens out the possibilities of the allegorical interpretation of
Scripture. Augustine decides to become a Christian catechumen.
CHAPTER I
1. Accept this sacrifice of my confessions from the hand of my tongue. Thou
didst form it and hast prompted it to praise thy name. Heal all my bones and let
them say, “O Lord, who is like unto thee?”120 It is not that one who confesses to thee
instructs thee as to what goes on within him. For the closed heart does not bar thy
sight into it, nor does the hardness of our heart hold back thy hands, for thou canst
soften it at will, either by mercy or in vengeance, “and there is no one who can hide
himself from thy heat.”121 But let my soul praise thee, that it may love thee, and let
it confess thy mercies to thee, that it may praise thee. Thy whole creation praises
thee without ceasing: the spirit of man, by his own lips, by his own voice, lifted up to
thee; animals and lifeless matter by the mouths of those who meditate upon them.
Thus our souls may climb out of their weariness toward thee and lean on those
things which thou hast created and pass through them to thee, who didst create
them in a marvelous way. With thee, there is refreshment and true strength.
CHAPTER II
2. Let the restless and the unrighteous depart, and flee away from thee. Even
so, thou seest them and thy eye pierces through the shadows in which they run. For
lo, they live in a world of beauty and yet are themselves most foul. And how have
they harmed thee? Or in what way have they discredited thy power, which is just
and perfect in its rule even to the last item in creation? Indeed, where would they
fly when they fled from thy presence? Wouldst thou be unable to find them? But
they fled that they might not see thee, who sawest them; that they might be blinded
and stumble into thee. But thou forsakest nothing that thou hast made. The
unrighteous stumble against thee that they may be justly plagued, fleeing from thy
gentleness and colliding with thy justice, and falling on their own rough paths. For
in truth they do not know that thou art everywhere; that no place contains thee,
and that only thou art near even to those who go farthest from thee. Let them,
therefore, turn back and seek thee, because even if they have abandoned thee, their
Creator, thou hast not abandoned thy creatures. Let them turn back and seek thee-and lo, thou art there in their hearts, there in the hearts of those who confess to
thee. Let them cast themselves upon thee, and weep on thy bosom, after all their
120Ps. 35:10.
121Cf. Ps. 19:6.
weary wanderings; and thou wilt gently wipe away their tears.122 And they weep
the more and rejoice in their weeping, since thou, O Lord, art not a man of flesh and
blood. Thou art the Lord, who canst remake what thou didst make and canst
comfort them. And where was I when I was seeking thee? There thou wast, before
me; but I had gone away, even from myself, and I could not find myself, much less
thee.
CHAPTER III
3. Let me now lay bare in the sight of God the twenty-ninth year of my age.
There had just come to Carthage a certain bishop of the Manicheans, Faustus by
name, a great snare of the devil; and many were entangled by him through the
charm of his eloquence. Now, even though I found this eloquence admirable, I was
beginning to distinguish the charm of words from the truth of things, which I was
eager to learn. Nor did I consider the dish as much as I did the kind of meat that
their famous Faustus served up to me in it. His fame had run before him, as one
very skilled in an honorable learning and pre-eminently skilled in the liberal arts.
And as I had already read and stored up in memory many of the injunctions
of the philosophers, I began to compare some of their doctrines with the tedious
fables of the Manicheans; and it struck me that the probability was on the side of
the philosophers, whose power reached far enough to enable them to form a fair
judgment of the world, even though they had not discovered the sovereign Lord of it
all. For thou art great, O Lord, and thou hast respect unto the lowly, but the proud
thou knowest afar off.123 Thou drawest near to none but the contrite in heart, and
canst not be found by the proud, even if in their inquisitive skill they may number
the stars and the sands, and map out the constellations, and trace the courses of the
planets.
4. For it is by the mind and the intelligence which thou gavest them that they
investigate these things. They have discovered much; and have foretold, many years
in advance, the day, the hour, and the extent of the eclipses of those luminaries, the
sun and the moon. Their calculations did not fail, and it came to pass as they
predicted. And they wrote down the rules they had discovered, so that to this day
they may be read and from them may be calculated in what year and month and
day and hour of the day, and at what quarter of its light, either the moon or the sun
will be eclipsed, and it will come to pass just as predicted. And men who are
ignorant in these matters marvel and are amazed; and those who understand them
exult and are exalted. Both, by an impious pride, withdraw from thee and forsake
thy light. They foretell an eclipse of the sun before it happens, but they do not see
their own eclipse which is even now occurring. For they do not ask, as religious men
should, what is the source of the intelligence by which they investigate these
matters. Moreover, when they discover that thou didst make them, they do not give
themselves up to thee that thou mightest preserve what thou hast made. Nor do
they offer, as sacrifice to thee, what they have made of themselves. For they do not
slaughter their own pride--as they do the sacrificial fowls--nor their own curiosities
by which, like the fishes of the sea, they wander through the unknown paths of the
deep. Nor do they curb their own extravagances as they do those of “the beasts of
the field,”124 so that thou, O Lord, “a consuming fire,”125 mayest burn up their
122Cf. Rev. 21:4.
123Cf. Ps. 138:6.
124Ps. 8:7.
125Heb. 12:29.
mortal cares and renew them unto immortality.
5. They do not know the way which is thy word, by which thou didst create all
the things that are and also the men who measure them, and the senses by which
they perceive what they measure, and the intelligence whereby they discern the
patterns of measure. Thus they know not that thy wisdom is not a matter of
measure.126 But the Only Begotten hath been “made unto us wisdom, and
righteousness, and sanctification”127 and hath been numbered among us and paid
tribute to Caesar.128 And they do not know this “Way” by which they could descend
from themselves to him in order to ascend through him to him. They did not know
this “Way,” and so they fancied themselves exalted to the stars and the shining
heavens. And lo, they fell upon the earth, and “their foolish heart was darkened.”129
They saw many true things about the creature but they do not seek with true piety
for the Truth, the Architect of Creation, and hence they do not find him. Or, if they
do find him, and know that he is God, they do not glorify him as God; neither are
they thankful but become vain in their imagination, and say that they themselves
are wise, and attribute to themselves what is thine. At the same time, with the most
perverse blindness, they wish to attribute to thee their own quality--so that they
load their lies on thee who art the Truth, “changing the glory of the incorruptible
God for an image of corruptible man, and birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping
things.”130 “They exchanged thy truth for a lie, and worshiped and served the
creature rather than the Creator.”131
6. Yet I remembered many a true saying of the philosophers about the
creation, and I saw the confirmation of their calculations in the orderly sequence of
seasons and in the visible evidence of the stars. And I compared this with the
doctrines of Mani, who in his voluminous folly wrote many books on these subjects.
But I could not discover there any account, of either the solstices or the equinoxes,
or the eclipses of the sun and moon, or anything of the sort that I had learned in the
books of secular philosophy. But still I was ordered to believe, even where the ideas
did not correspond with--even when they contradicted--the rational theories
established by mathematics and my own eyes, but were very different.
CHAPTER IV
7. Yet, O Lord God of Truth, is any man pleasing to thee because he knows
these things? No, for surely that man is unhappy who knows these things and does
not know thee. And that man is happy who knows thee, even though he does not
know these things. He who knows both thee and these things is not the more
blessed for his learning, for thou only art his blessing, if knowing thee as God he
glorifies thee and gives thanks and does not become vain in his thoughts.
For just as that man who knows how to possess a tree, and give thanks to
thee for the use of it--although he may not know how many feet high it is or how
wide it spreads--is better than the man who can measure it and count all its
branches, but neither owns it nor knows or loves its Creator: just so is a faithful
man who possesses the world’s wealth as though he had nothing, and possesses all
things through his union through thee, whom all things serve, even though he does
126An
127Cf.
128Cf.
129Cf.
130Cf.
131Cf.
echo of the opening sentence, Bk. I, Ch. I, 1.
1 Cor. 1:30.
Matt. 22:21.
Rom. 1:21ff.
Rom. 1:23.
Rom. 1:25.
not know the circlings of the Great Bear. Just so it is foolish to doubt that this
faithful man may truly be better than the one who can measure the heavens and
number the stars and weigh the elements, but who is forgetful of thee “who hast set
in order all things in number, weight, and measure.”132
CHAPTER V
8. And who ordered this Mani to write about these things, knowledge of
which is not necessary to piety? For thou hast said to man, “Behold, godliness is
wisdom”133--and of this he might have been ignorant, however perfectly he may
have known these other things. Yet, since he did not know even these other things,
and most impudently dared to teach them, it is clear that he had no knowledge of
piety. For, even when we have a knowledge of this worldly lore, it is folly to make a
profession of it, when piety comes from confession to thee. From piety, therefore,
Mani had gone astray, and all his show of learning only enabled the truly learned to
perceive, from his ignorance of what they knew, how little he was to be trusted to
make plain these more really difficult matters. For he did not aim to be lightly
esteemed, but went around trying to persuade men that the Holy Spirit, the
Comforter and Enricher of thy faithful ones, was personally resident in him with
full authority. And, therefore, when he was detected in manifest errors about the
sky, the stars, the movements of the sun and moon, even though these things do not
relate to religious doctrine, the impious presumption of the man became clearly
evident; for he not only taught things about which he was ignorant but also
perverted them, and this with pride so foolish and mad that he sought to claim that
his own utterances were as if they had been those of a divine person.
9. When I hear of a Christian brother, ignorant of these things, or in error
concerning them, I can tolerate his uninformed opinion; and I do not see that any
lack of knowledge as to the form or nature of this material creation can do him
much harm, as long as he does not hold a belief in anything which is unworthy of
thee, O Lord, the Creator of all. But if he thinks that his secular knowledge pertains
to the essence of the doctrine of piety, or ventures to assert dogmatic opinions in
matters in which he is ignorant--there lies the injury. And yet even a weakness such
as this, in the infancy of our faith, is tolerated by our Mother Charity until the new
man can grow up “unto a perfect man,” and not be “carried away with every wind of
doctrine.”134
But Mani had presumed to be at once the teacher, author, guide, and leader
of all whom he could persuade to believe this, so that all who followed him believed
that they were following not an ordinary man but thy Holy Spirit. And who would
not judge that such great madness, when it once stood convicted of false teaching,
should then be abhorred and utterly rejected? But I had not yet clearly decided
whether the alternation of day and night, and of longer and shorter days and nights,
and the eclipses of sun and moon, and whatever else I read about in other books
could be explained consistently with his theories. If they could have been so
explained, there would still have remained a doubt in my mind whether the theories
were right or wrong. Yet I was prepared, on the strength of his reputed godliness, to
rest my faith on his authority.
132Wis. 11:20.
133Cf. Job 28:28.
134Eph. 4:13, 14.
CHAPTER VI
10. For almost the whole of the nine years that I listened with unsettled mind
to the Manichean teaching I had been looking forward with unbounded eagerness to
the arrival of this Faustus. For all the other members of the sect that I happened to
meet, when they were unable to answer the questions I raised, always referred me
to his coming. They promised that, in discussion with him, these and even greater
difficulties, if I had them, would be quite easily and amply cleared away. When at
last he did come, I found him to be a man of pleasant speech, who spoke of the very
same things they themselves did, although more fluently and in a more agreeable
style. But what profit was there to me in the elegance of my cupbearer, since he
could not offer me the more precious draught for which I thirsted? My ears had
already had their fill of such stuff, and now it did not seem any better because it
was better expressed nor more true because it was dressed up in rhetoric; nor could
I think the man’s soul necessarily wise because his face was comely and his
language eloquent. But they who extolled him to me were not competent judges.
They thought him able and wise because his eloquence delighted them. At the same
time I realized that there is another kind of man who is suspicious even of truth
itself, if it is expressed in smooth and flowing language. But thou, O my God, hadst
already taught me in wonderful and marvelous ways, and therefore I believed-because it is true--that thou didst teach me and that beside thee there is no other
teacher of truth, wherever truth shines forth. Already I had learned from thee that
because a thing is eloquently expressed it should not be taken to be as necessarily
true; nor because it is uttered with stammering lips should it be supposed false.
Nor, again, is it necessarily true because rudely uttered, nor untrue because the
language is brilliant. Wisdom and folly both are like meats that are wholesome and
unwholesome, and courtly or simple words are like town-made or rustic vessels-both kinds of food may be served in either kind of dish.
11. That eagerness, therefore, with which I had so long awaited this man,
was in truth delighted with his action and feeling in a disputation, and with the
fluent and apt words with which he clothed his ideas. I was delighted, therefore,
and I joined with others--and even exceeded them--in exalting and praising him. Yet
it was a source of annoyance to me that, in his lecture room, I was not allowed to
introduce and raise any of those questions that troubled me, in a familiar exchange
of discussion with him. As soon as I found an opportunity for this, and gained his
ear at a time when it was not inconvenient for him to enter into a discussion with
me and my friends, I laid before him some of my doubts. I discovered at once that he
knew nothing of the liberal arts except grammar, and that only in an ordinary way.
He had, however, read some of Tully’s orations, a very few books of Seneca, and
some of the poets, and such few books of his own sect as were written in good Latin.
With this meager learning and his daily practice in speaking, he had acquired a sort
of eloquence which proved the more delightful and enticing because it was under the
direction of a ready wit and a sort of native grace. Was this not even as I now recall
it, O Lord my God, Judge of my conscience? My heart and my memory are laid open
before thee, who wast even then guiding me by the secret impulse of thy providence
and wast setting my shameful errors before my face so that I might see and hate
them.
CHAPTER VII
12. For as soon as it became plain to me that Faustus was ignorant in those
arts in which I had believed him eminent, I began to despair of his being able to
clarify and explain all these perplexities that troubled me--though I realized that
such ignorance need not have affected the authenticity of his piety, if he had not
been a Manichean. For their books are full of long fables about the sky and the
stars, the sun and the moon; and I had ceased to believe him able to show me in any
satisfactory fashion what I so ardently desired: whether the explanations contained
in the Manichean books were better or at least as good as the mathematical
explanations I had read elsewhere. But when I proposed that these subjects should
be considered and discussed, he quite modestly did not dare to undertake the task,
for he was aware that he had no knowledge of these things and was not ashamed to
confess it. For he was not one of those talkative people--from whom I had endured so
much--who undertook to teach me what I wanted to know, and then said nothing.
Faustus had a heart which, if not right toward thee, was at least not altogether
false toward himself; for he was not ignorant of his own ignorance, and he did not
choose to be entangled in a controversy from which he could not draw back or retire
gracefully. For this I liked him all the more. For the modesty of an ingenious mind
is a finer thing than the acquisition of that knowledge I desired; and this I found to
be his attitude toward all abstruse and difficult questions.
13. Thus the zeal with which I had plunged into the Manichean system was
checked, and I despaired even more of their other teachers, because Faustus who
was so famous among them had turned out so poorly in the various matters that
puzzled me. And so I began to occupy myself with him in the study of his own
favorite pursuit, that of literature, in which I was already teaching a class as a
professor of rhetoric among the young Carthaginian students. With Faustus then I
read whatever he himself wished to read, or what I judged suitable to his bent of
mind. But all my endeavors to make further progress in Manicheism came
completely to an end through my acquaintance with that man. I did not wholly
separate myself from them, but as one who had not yet found anything better I
decided to content myself, for the time being, with what I had stumbled upon one
way or another, until by chance something more desirable should present itself.
Thus that Faustus who had entrapped so many to their death--though neither
willing nor witting it--now began to loosen the snare in which I had been caught.
For thy hands, O my God, in the hidden design of thy providence did not desert my
soul; and out of the blood of my mother’s heart, through the tears that she poured
out by day and by night, there was a sacrifice offered to thee for me, and by
marvelous ways thou didst deal with me. For it was thou, O my God, who didst it:
for “the steps of a man are ordered by the Lord, and he shall choose his way.”135
How shall we attain salvation without thy hand remaking what it had already
made?
CHAPTER VIII
14. Thou didst so deal with me, therefore, that I was persuaded to go to Rome
and teach there what I had been teaching at Carthage. And how I was persuaded to
do this I will not omit to confess to thee, for in this also the profoundest workings of
thy wisdom and thy constant mercy toward us must be pondered and acknowledged.
I did not wish to go to Rome because of the richer fees and the higher dignity which
my friends promised me there--though these considerations did affect my decision.
My principal and almost sole motive was that I had been informed that the students
there studied more quietly and were better kept under the control of stern
discipline, so that they did not capriciously and impudently rush into the classroom
135Ps. 36:23 (Vulgate).
of a teacher not their own--indeed, they were not admitted at all without the
permission of the teacher. At Carthage, on the contrary, there was a shameful and
intemperate license among the students. They burst in rudely and, with furious
gestures, would disrupt the discipline which the teacher had established for the
good of his pupils. Many outrages they perpetrated with astounding effrontery,
things that would be punishable by law if they were not sustained by custom. Thus
custom makes plain that such behavior is all the more worthless because it allows
men to do what thy eternal law never will allow. They think that they act thus with
impunity, though the very blindness with which they act is their punishment, and
they suffer far greater harm than they inflict.
The manners that I would not adopt as a student I was compelled as a
teacher to endure in others. And so I was glad to go where all who knew the
situation assured me that such conduct was not allowed. But thou, “O my refuge
and my portion in the land of the living,”136 didst goad me thus at Carthage so that
I might thereby be pulled away from it and change my worldly habitation for the
preservation of my soul. At the same time, thou didst offer me at Rome an
enticement, through the agency of men enchanted with this death-in-life--by their
insane conduct in the one place and their empty promises in the other. To correct
my wandering footsteps, thou didst secretly employ their perversity and my own.
For those who disturbed my tranquillity were blinded by shameful madness and
also those who allured me elsewhere had nothing better than the earth’s cunning.
And I who hated actual misery in the one place sought fictitious happiness in the
other.
15. Thou knewest the cause of my going from one country to the other, O God,
but thou didst not disclose it either to me or to my mother, who grieved deeply over
my departure and followed me down to the sea. She clasped me tight in her
embrace, willing either to keep me back or to go with me, but I deceived her,
pretending that I had a friend whom I could not leave until he had a favorable wind
to set sail. Thus I lied to my mother--and such a mother!--and escaped. For this too
thou didst mercifully pardon me--fool that I was--and didst preserve me from the
waters of the sea for the water of thy grace; so that, when I was purified by that, the
fountain of my mother’s eyes, from which she had daily watered the ground for me
as she prayed to thee, should be dried. And, since she refused to return without me,
I persuaded her, with some difficulty, to remain that night in a place quite close to
our ship, where there was a shrine in memory of the blessed Cyprian. That night I
slipped away secretly, and she remained to pray and weep. And what was it, O
Lord, that she was asking of thee in such a flood of tears but that thou wouldst not
allow me to sail? But thou, taking thy own secret counsel and noting the real point
to her desire, didst not grant what she was then asking in order to grant to her the
thing that she had always been asking.
The wind blew and filled our sails, and the shore dropped out of sight. Wild
with grief, she was there the next morning and filled thy ears with complaints and
groans which thou didst disregard, although, at the very same time, thou wast
using my longings as a means and wast hastening me on to the fulfillment of all
longing. Thus the earthly part of her love to me was justly purged by the scourge of
sorrow. Still, like all mothers--though even more than others--she loved to have me
with her, and did not know what joy thou wast preparing for her through my going
away. Not knowing this secret end, she wept and mourned and saw in her agony the
inheritance of Eve--seeking in sorrow what she had brought forth in sorrow. And
yet, after accusing me of perfidy and cruelty, she still continued her intercessions
136Ps. 142:5.
for me to thee. She returned to her own home, and I went on to Rome.
CHAPTER IX
16. And lo, I was received in Rome by the scourge of bodily sickness; and I
was very near to falling into hell, burdened with all the many and grievous sins I
had committed against thee, myself, and others--all over and above that fetter of
original sin whereby we all die in Adam. For thou hadst forgiven me none of these
things in Christ, neither had he abolished by his cross the enmity137 that I had
incurred from thee through my sins. For how could he do so by the crucifixion of a
phantom, which was all I supposed him to be? The death of my soul was as real then
as the death of his flesh appeared to me unreal. And the life of my soul was as false,
because it was as unreal as the death of his flesh was real, though I believed it not.
My fever increased, and I was on the verge of passing away and perishing;
for, if I had passed away then, where should I have gone but into the fiery torment
which my misdeeds deserved, measured by the truth of thy rule? My mother knew
nothing of this; yet, far away, she went on praying for me. And thou, present
everywhere, didst hear her where she was and had pity on me where I was, so that I
regained my bodily health, although I was still disordered in my sacrilegious heart.
For that peril of death did not make me wish to be baptized. I was even better when,
as a lad, I entreated baptism of my mother’s devotion, as I have already related and
confessed.138 But now I had since increased in dishonor, and I madly scoffed at all
the purposes of thy medicine which would not have allowed me, though a sinner
such as I was, to die a double death. Had my mother’s heart been pierced with this
wound, it never could have been cured, for I cannot adequately tell of the love she
had for me, or how she still travailed for me in the spirit with a far keener anguish
than when she bore me in the flesh.
17. I cannot conceive, therefore, how she could have been healed if my death
(still in my sins) had pierced her inmost love. Where, then, would have been all her
earnest, frequent, and ceaseless prayers to thee? Nowhere but with thee. But
couldst thou, O most merciful God, despise the “contrite and humble heart”139 of
that pure and prudent widow, who was so constant in her alms, so gracious and
attentive to thy saints, never missing a visit to church twice a day, morning and
evening--and this not for vain gossiping, nor old wives’ fables, but in order that she
might listen to thee in thy sermons, and thou to her in her prayers? Couldst thou,
by whose gifts she was so inspired, despise and disregard the tears of such a one
without coming to her aid--those tears by which she entreated thee, not for gold or
silver, and not for any changing or fleeting good, but for the salvation of the soul of
her son? By no means, O Lord. It is certain that thou wast near and wast hearing
and wast carrying out the plan by which thou hadst predetermined it should be
done. Far be it from thee that thou shouldst have deluded her in those visions and
the answers she had received from thee--some of which I have mentioned, and
others not--which she kept in her faithful heart, and, forever beseeching, urged
them on thee as if they had thy own signature. For thou, “because thy mercy
endureth forever,”140 hast so condescended to those whose debts thou hast pardoned
that thou likewise dost become a debtor by thy promises.
137Cf. Eph. 2:15.
138Bk. I, Ch. XI, 17.
139Cf. Ps. 51:17.
140A constant theme in The Psalms and elsewhere; cf. Ps. 136.
CHAPTER X
18. Thou didst restore me then from that illness, and didst heal the son of thy
handmaid in his body, that he might live for thee and that thou mightest endow him
with a better and more certain health. After this, at Rome, I again joined those
deluding and deluded “saints”; and not their “hearers” only, such as the man was in
whose house I had fallen sick, but also with those whom they called “the elect.” For
it still seemed to me “that it is not we who sin, but some other nature sinned in us.”
And it gratified my pride to be beyond blame, and when I did anything wrong not to
have to confess that I had done wrong--“that thou mightest heal my soul because it
had sinned against thee” 141--and I loved to excuse my soul and to accuse something
else inside me (I knew not what) but which was not I. But, assuredly, it was I, and it
was my impiety that had divided me against myself. That sin then was all the more
incurable because I did not deem myself a sinner. It was an execrable iniquity, O
God Omnipotent, that I would have preferred to have thee defeated in me, to my
destruction, than to be defeated by thee to my salvation. Not yet, therefore, hadst
thou set a watch upon my mouth and a door around my lips that my heart might
not incline to evil speech, to make excuse for sin with men that work iniquity.142
And, therefore, I continued still in the company of their “elect.”
19. But now, hopeless of gaining any profit from that false doctrine, I began
to hold more loosely and negligently even to those points which I had decided to rest
content with, if I could find nothing better. I was now half inclined to believe that
those philosophers whom they call “The Academics”143 were wiser than the rest in
holding that we ought to doubt everything, and in maintaining that man does not
have the power of comprehending any certain truth, for, although I had not yet
understood their meaning, I was fully persuaded that they thought just as they are
commonly reputed to do. And I did not fail openly to dissuade my host from his
confidence which I observed that he had in those fictions of which the works of Mani
are full. For all this, I was still on terms of more intimate friendship with these
people than with others who were not of their heresy. I did not indeed defend it with
my former ardor; but my familiarity with that group--and there were many of them
concealed in Rome at that time144--made me slower to seek any other way. This was
particularly easy since I had no hope of finding in thy Church the truth from which
they had turned me aside, O Lord of heaven and earth, Creator of all things visible
and invisible. And it still seemed to me most unseemly to believe that thou couldst
have the form of human flesh and be bounded by the bodily shape of our limbs. And
when I desired to meditate on my God, I did not know what to think of but a huge
extended body--for what did not have bodily extension did not seem to me to exist-and this was the greatest and almost the sole cause of my unavoidable errors.
20. And thus I also believed that evil was a similar kind of substance, and
that it had its own hideous and deformed extended body--either in a dense form
which they called the earth or in a thin and subtle form as, for example, the
substance of the air, which they imagined as some malignant spirit penetrating that
141Cf. Ps. 41:4.
142Cf. Ps 141:3f.
143Followers of the skeptical tradition established in the Platonic Academy by Arcesilaus and
Carneades in the third century B.C. They taught the necessity of εποχη, suspended judgment, in all
questions of truth, and would allow nothing more than the consent of probability. This tradition was
known in Augustine's time chiefly through the writings of Cicero; cf. his Academica. This kind of
skepticism shook Augustine's complacency severely, and he wrote one of his first dialogues, Contra
Academicos, in an effort to clear up the problem posed thereby.
144The Manicheans were under an official ban in Rome.
earth. And because my piety--such as it was--still compelled me to believe that the
good God never created any evil substance, I formed the idea of two masses, one
opposed to the other, both infinite but with the evil more contracted and the good
more expansive. And from this diseased beginning, the other sacrileges followed
after.
For when my mind tried to turn back to the Catholic faith, I was cast down,
since the Catholic faith was not what I judged it to be. And it seemed to me a
greater piety to regard thee, my God--to whom I make confession of thy mercies--as
infinite in all respects save that one: where the extended mass of evil stood opposed
to thee, where I was compelled to confess that thou art finite--than if I should think
that thou couldst be confined by the form of a human body on every side. And it
seemed better to me to believe that no evil had been created by thee--for in my
ignorance evil appeared not only to be some kind of substance but a corporeal one at
that. This was because I had, thus far, no conception of mind, except as a subtle
body diffused throughout local spaces. This seemed better than to believe that
anything could emanate from thee which had the character that I considered evil to
be in its nature. And I believed that our Saviour himself also--thy Only Begotten-had been brought forth, as it were, for our salvation out of the mass of thy bright
shining substance. So that I could believe nothing about him except what I was able
to harmonize with these vain imaginations. I thought, therefore, that such a nature
could not be born of the Virgin Mary without being mingled with the flesh, and I
could not see how the divine substance, as I had conceived it, could be mingled thus
without being contaminated. I was afraid, therefore, to believe that he had been
born in the flesh, lest I should also be compelled to believe that he had been
contaminated by the flesh. Now will thy spiritual ones smile blandly and lovingly at
me if they read these confessions. Yet such was I.
CHAPTER XI
21. Furthermore, the things they censured in thy Scriptures I thought
impossible to be defended. And yet, occasionally, I desired to confer on various
matters with someone well learned in those books, to test what he thought of them.
For already the words of one Elpidius, who spoke and disputed face to face against
these same Manicheans, had begun to impress me, even when I was at Carthage;
because he brought forth things out of the Scriptures that were not easily withstood,
to which their answers appeared to me feeble. One of their answers they did not
give forth publicly, but only to us in private--when they said that the writings of the
New Testament had been tampered with by unknown persons who desired to
ingraft the Jewish law into the Christian faith. But they themselves never brought
forward any uncorrupted copies. Still thinking in corporeal categories and very
much ensnared and to some extent stifled, I was borne down by those conceptions of
bodily substance. I panted under this load for the air of thy truth, but I was not able
to breathe it pure and undefiled.
CHAPTER XII
22. I set about diligently to practice what I came to Rome to do--the teaching
of rhetoric. The first task was to bring together in my home a few people to whom
and through whom I had begun to be known. And lo, I then began to learn that
other offenses were committed in Rome which I had not had to bear in Africa. Just
as I had been told, those riotous disruptions by young blackguards were not
practiced here. Yet, now, my friends told me, many of the Roman students--breakers
of faith, who, for the love of money, set a small value on justice--would conspire
together and suddenly transfer to another teacher, to evade paying their master’s
fees. My heart hated such people, though not with a “perfect hatred”145; for
doubtless I hated them more because I was to suffer from them than on account of
their own illicit acts. Still, such people are base indeed; they fornicate against thee,
for they love the transitory mockeries of temporal things and the filthy gain which
begrimes the hand that grabs it; they embrace the fleeting world and scorn thee,
who abidest and invitest us to return to thee and who pardonest the prostituted
human soul when it does return to thee. Now I hate such crooked and perverse men,
although I love them if they will be corrected and come to prefer the learning they
obtain to money and, above all, to prefer thee to such learning, O God, the truth and
fullness of our positive good, and our most pure peace. But then the wish was
stronger in me for my own sake not to suffer evil from them than was my desire
that they should become good for thy sake.
CHAPTER XIII
23. When, therefore, the officials of Milan sent to Rome, to the prefect of the
city, to ask that he provide them with a teacher of rhetoric for their city and to send
him at the public expense, I applied for the job through those same persons, drunk
with the Manichean vanities, to be freed from whom I was going away--though
neither they nor I were aware of it at the time. They recommended that
Symmachus, who was then prefect, after he had proved me by audition, should
appoint me.
And to Milan I came, to Ambrose the bishop, famed through the whole world
as one of the best of men, thy devoted servant. His eloquent discourse in those times
abundantly provided thy people with the flour of thy wheat, the gladness of thy oil,
and the sober intoxication of thy wine.146 To him I was led by thee without my
knowledge, that by him I might be led to thee in full knowledge. That man of God
received me as a father would, and welcomed my coming as a good bishop should.
And I began to love him, of course, not at the first as a teacher of the truth, for I had
entirely despaired of finding that in thy Church--but as a friendly man. And I
studiously listened to him--though not with the right motive--as he preached to the
people. I was trying to discover whether his eloquence came up to his reputation,
and whether it flowed fuller or thinner than others said it did. And thus I hung on
his words intently, but, as to his subject matter, I was only a careless and
contemptuous listener. I was delighted with the charm of his speech, which was
more erudite, though less cheerful and soothing, than Faustus’ style. As for subject
matter, however, there could be no comparison, for the latter was wandering around
in Manichean deceptions, while the former was teaching salvation most soundly.
But “salvation is far from the wicked,”147 such as I was then when I stood before
him. Yet I was drawing nearer, gradually and unconsciously.
CHAPTER XIV
24. For, although I took no trouble to learn what he said, but only to hear how
145Ps. 139:22.
146A mixed figure here, put together from Ps. 4:7; 45:7; 104:15; the phrase sobriam vini ebrietatem is
almost certainly an echo of a stanza of one of Ambrose's own hymns, Splendor paternae gloriae,
which Augustine had doubtless learned in Milan: "Bibamus sobriam ebrietatem spiritus." Cf. W.I.
Merrill, Latin Hymns (Boston, 1904), pp. 4, 5.
147Ps. 119:155.
he said it--for this empty concern remained foremost with me as long as I despaired
of finding a clear path from man to thee--yet, along with the eloquence I prized,
there also came into my mind the ideas which I ignored; for I could not separate
them. And, while I opened my heart to acknowledge how skillfully he spoke, there
also came an awareness of how truly he spoke--but only gradually. First of all, his
ideas had already begun to appear to me defensible; and the Catholic faith, for
which I supposed that nothing could be said against the onslaught of the
Manicheans, I now realized could be maintained without presumption. This was
especially clear after I had heard one or two parts of the Old Testament explained
allegorically--whereas before this, when I had interpreted them literally, they had
“killed” me spiritually.148 However, when many of these passages in those books
were expounded to me thus, I came to blame my own despair for having believed
that no reply could be given to those who hated and scoffed at the Law and the
Prophets. Yet I did not see that this was reason enough to follow the Catholic way,
just because it had learned advocates who could answer objections adequately and
without absurdity. Nor could I see that what I had held to heretofore should now be
condemned, because both sides were equally defensible. For that way did not appear
to me yet vanquished; but neither did it seem yet victorious.
25. But now I earnestly bent my mind to require if there was possible any
way to prove the Manicheans guilty of falsehood. If I could have conceived of a
spiritual substance, all their strongholds would have collapsed and been cast out of
my mind. But I could not. Still, concerning the body of this world, nature as a whole-now that I was able to consider and compare such things more and more--I now
decided that the majority of the philosophers held the more probable views. So, in
what I thought was the method of the Academics--doubting everything and
fluctuating between all the options--I came to the conclusion that the Manicheans
were to be abandoned. For I judged, even in that period of doubt, that I could not
remain in a sect to which I preferred some of the philosophers. But I refused to
commit the cure of my fainting soul to the philosophers, because they were without
the saving name of Christ. I resolved, therefore, to become a catechumen in the
Catholic Church--which my parents had so much urged upon me--until something
certain shone forth by which I might guide my course.
148Cf. 2 Cor. 3:6. The discovery of the allegorical method of interpretation opened new horizons for
Augustine in Biblical interpretation and he adopted it as a settled principle in his sermons and
commentaries; cf. M. Pontet, L'Exégèse de Saint Augustin prédicateur (Lyons, 1946).
BOOK SIX
Turmoil in the twenties. Monica follows Augustine to Milan and finds him a
catechumen in the Catholic Church. Both admire Ambrose but Augustine gets no
help from him on his personal problems. Ambition spurs and Alypius and Nebridius
join him in a confused quest for the happy life. Augustine becomes engaged,
dismisses his first mistress, takes another, and continues his fruitless search for
truth.
CHAPTER I
1. O Hope from my youth,149 where wast thou to me and where hadst thou
gone away? 150 For hadst thou not created me and differentiated me from the beasts
of the field and the birds of the air, making me wiser than they? And yet I was
wandering about in a dark and slippery way, seeking thee outside myself and thus
not finding the God of my heart. I had gone down into the depths of the sea and had
lost faith, and had despaired of ever finding the truth.
By this time my mother had come to me, having mustered the courage of
piety, following over sea and land, secure in thee through all the perils of the
journey. For in the dangers of the voyage she comforted the sailors--to whom the
inexperienced voyagers, when alarmed, were accustomed to go for comfort--and
assured them of a safe arrival because she had been so assured by thee in a vision.
She found me in deadly peril through my despair of ever finding the truth.
But when I told her that I was now no longer a Manichean, though not yet a
Catholic Christian, she did not leap for joy as if this were unexpected; for she had
already been reassured about that part of my misery for which she had mourned me
as one dead, but also as one who would be raised to thee. She had carried me out on
the bier of her thoughts, that thou mightest say to the widow’s son, “Young man, I
say unto you, arise!”151 and then he would revive and begin to speak, and thou
wouldst deliver him to his mother. Therefore, her heart was not agitated with any
violent exultation when she heard that so great a part of what she daily entreated
thee to do had actually already been done--that, though I had not yet grasped the
truth, I was rescued from falsehood. Instead, she was fully confident that thou who
hadst promised the whole would give her the rest, and thus most calmly, and with a
fully confident heart, she replied to me that she believed, in Christ, that before she
died she would see me a faithful Catholic. And she said no more than this to me.
But to thee, O Fountain of mercy, she poured out still more frequent prayers and
tears that thou wouldst hasten thy aid and enlighten my darkness, and she hurried
all the more zealously to the church and hung upon the words of Ambrose, praying
for the fountain of water that springs up into everlasting life.152 For she loved that
man as an angel of God, since she knew that it was by him that I had been brought
thus far to that wavering state of agitation I was now in, through which she was
fully persuaded I should pass from sickness to health, even though it would be after
a still sharper convulsion which physicians call “the crisis.”
149Cf.
150Cf.
151Cf.
152Cf.
Ps. 71:5.
Ps. 10:1.
Luke 7:11-17.
John 4:14.
CHAPTER II
2. So also my mother brought to certain oratories, erected in the memory of
the saints, offerings of porridge, bread, and wine--as had been her custom in Africa-and she was forbidden to do so by the doorkeeper [ostiarius]. And as soon as she
learned that it was the bishop who had forbidden it, she acquiesced so devoutly and
obediently that I myself marveled how readily she could bring herself to turn critic
of her own customs, rather than question his prohibition. For winebibbing had not
taken possession of her spirit, nor did the love of wine stimulate her to hate the
truth, as it does too many, both male and female, who turn as sick at a hymn to
sobriety as drunkards do at a draught of water. When she had brought her basket
with the festive gifts, which she would taste first herself and give the rest away, she
would never allow herself more than one little cup of wine, diluted according to her
own temperate palate, which she would taste out of courtesy. And, if there were
many oratories of departed saints that ought to be honored in the same way, she
still carried around with her the same little cup, to be used everywhere. This
became not only very much watered but also quite tepid with carrying it about. She
would distribute it by small sips to those around, for she sought to stimulate their
devotion, not pleasure.
But as soon as she found that this custom was forbidden by that famous
preacher and most pious prelate, even to those who would use it in moderation, lest
thereby it might be an occasion of gluttony for those who were already drunken (and
also because these funereal memorials were very much like some of the
superstitious practices of the pagans), she most willingly abstained from it. And, in
place of a basket filled with fruits of the earth, she had learned to bring to the
oratories of the martyrs a heart full of purer petitions, and to give all that she could
to the poor--so that the Communion of the Lord’s body might be rightly celebrated in
those places where, after the example of his Passion, the martyrs had been
sacrificed and crowned. But yet it seems to me, O Lord my God--and my heart
thinks of it this way in thy sight--that my mother would probably not have given
way so easily to the rejection of this custom if it had been forbidden by another,
whom she did not love as she did Ambrose. For, out of her concern for my salvation,
she loved him most dearly; and he loved her truly, on account of her faithful
religious life, in which she frequented the church with good works, “fervent in
spirit.”153 Thus he would, when he saw me, often burst forth into praise of her,
congratulating me that I had such a mother--little knowing what a son she had in
me, who was still a skeptic in all these matters and who could not conceive that the
way of life could be found out.
CHAPTER III
3. Nor had I come yet to groan in my prayers that thou wouldst help me. My
mind was wholly intent on knowledge and eager for disputation. Ambrose himself I
esteemed a happy man, as the world counted happiness, because great personages
held him in honor. Only his celibacy appeared to me a painful burden. But what
hope he cherished, what struggles he had against the temptations that beset his
high station, what solace in adversity, and what savory joys thy bread possessed for
the hidden mouth of his heart when feeding on it, I could neither
conjecture nor experience.
Nor did he know my own frustrations, nor the pit of my danger. For I could
153Rom. 12:11.
not request of him what I wanted as I wanted it, because I was debarred from
hearing and speaking to him by crowds of busy people to whose infirmities he
devoted himself. And when he was not engaged with them--which was never for
long at a time--he was either refreshing his body with necessary food or his mind
with reading.
Now, as he read, his eyes glanced over the pages and his heart searched out
the sense, but his voice and tongue were silent. Often when we came to his room--for
no one was forbidden to enter, nor was it his custom that the arrival of visitors
should be announced to him--we would see him thus reading to himself. After we
had sat for a long time in silence--for who would dare interrupt one so intent?--we
would then depart, realizing that he was unwilling to be distracted in the little time
he could gain for the recruiting of his mind, free from the clamor of other men’s
business. Perhaps he was fearful lest, if the author he was studying should express
himself vaguely, some doubtful and attentive hearer would ask him to expound it or
discuss some of the more abstruse questions, so that he could not get over as much
material as he wished, if his time was occupied with others. And even a truer reason
for his reading to himself might have been the care for preserving his voice, which
was very easily weakened. Whatever his motive was in so doing, it was doubtless, in
such a man, a good one.
4. But actually I could find no opportunity of putting the questions I desired
to that holy oracle of thine in his heart, unless it was a matter which could be dealt
with briefly. However, those surgings in me required that he should give me his full
leisure so that I might pour them out to him; but I never found him so. I heard him,
indeed, every Lord’s Day, “rightly dividing the word of truth”154 among the people.
And I became all the more convinced that all those knots of crafty calumnies which
those deceivers of ours had knit together against the divine books could be
unraveled.
I soon understood that the statement that man was made after the image of
Him that created him155 was not understood by thy spiritual sons--whom thou
hadst regenerated through the Catholic Mother156 through grace--as if they believed
and imagined that thou wert bounded by a human form, although what was the
nature of a spiritual substance I had not the faintest or vaguest notion. Still
rejoicing, I blushed that for so many years I had bayed, not against the Catholic
faith, but against the fables of fleshly imagination. For I had been both impious and
rash in this, that I had condemned by pronouncement what I ought to have learned
by inquiry. For thou, O Most High, and most near, most secret, yet most present,
who dost not have limbs, some of which are larger and some smaller, but who art
wholly everywhere and nowhere in space, and art not shaped by some corporeal
form: thou didst create man after thy own image and, see, he dwells in space, both
head and feet.
CHAPTER IV
5. Since I could not then understand how this image of thine could subsist, I
should have knocked on the door and propounded the doubt as to how it was to be
believed, and not have insultingly opposed it as if it were actually believed.
Therefore, my anxiety as to what I could retain as certain gnawed all the more
sharply into my soul, and I felt quite ashamed because during the long time I had
1542 Tim. 2:15.
155Cf. Gen. 1:26f.
156The Church.
been deluded and deceived by the [Manichean] promises of certainties, I had, with
childish petulance, prated of so many uncertainties as if they were certain. That
they were falsehoods became apparent to me only afterward. However, I was certain
that they were uncertain and since I had held them as certainly uncertain I had
accused thy Catholic Church with a blind contentiousness. I had not yet discovered
that it taught the truth, but I now knew that it did not teach what I had so
vehemently accused it of. In this respect, at least, I was confounded and converted;
and I rejoiced, O my God, that the one Church, the body of thy only Son--in which
the name of Christ had been sealed upon me as an infant--did not relish these
childish trifles and did not maintain in its sound doctrine any tenet that would
involve pressing thee, the Creator of all, into space, which, however extended and
immense, would still be bounded on all sides--like the shape of a human body.
6. I was also glad that the old Scriptures of the Law and the Prophets were
laid before me to be read, not now with an eye to what had seemed absurd in them
when formerly I censured thy holy ones for thinking thus, when they actually did
not think in that way. And I listened with delight to Ambrose, in his sermons to the
people, often recommending this text most diligently as a rule: “The letter kills, but
the spirit gives life,”157 while at the same time he drew aside the mystic veil and
opened to view the spiritual meaning of what seemed to teach perverse doctrine if it
were taken according to the letter. I found nothing in his teachings that offended
me, though I could not yet know for certain whether what he taught was true. For
all this time I restrained my heart from assenting to anything, fearing to fall
headlong into error. Instead, by this hanging in suspense, I was being strangled.158
For my desire was to be as certain of invisible things as I was that seven and three
are ten. I was not so deranged as to believe that this could not be comprehended,
but my desire was to have other things as clear as this, whether they were physical
objects, which were not present to my senses, or spiritual objects, which I did not
know how to conceive of except in physical terms.
If I could have believed, I might have been cured, and, with the sight of my
soul cleared up, it might in some way have been directed toward thy truth, which
always abides and fails in nothing. But, just as it happens that a man who has tried
a bad physician fears to trust himself with a good one, so it was with the health of
my soul, which could not be healed except by believing. But lest it should believe
falsehoods, it refused to be cured, resisting thy hand, who hast prepared for us the
medicines of faith and applied them to the maladies of the whole world, and
endowed them with such great efficacy.
CHAPTER V
7. Still, from this time forward, I began to prefer the Catholic doctrine. I felt
that it was with moderation and honesty that it commanded things to be believed
that were not demonstrated--whether they could be demonstrated, but not to
everyone, or whether they could not be demonstrated at all. This was far better than
the method of the Manicheans, in which our credulity was mocked by an audacious
promise of knowledge and then many fabulous and absurd things were forced upon
believers because they were incapable of demonstration. After that, O Lord, little by
little, with a gentle and most merciful hand, drawing and calming my heart, thou
didst persuade me that, if I took into account the multitude of things I had never
1572 Cor. 3:6.
158Another reference to the Academic doctrine of suspendium (εποχη); cf. Bk. V, Ch. X, 19, and also
Enchiridion, VII, 20.
seen, nor been present when they were enacted--such as many of the events of
secular history; and the numerous reports of places and cities which I had not seen;
or such as my relations with many friends, or physicians, or with these men and
those--that unless we should believe, we should do nothing at all in this life.159
Finally, I was impressed with what an unalterable assurance I believed which two
people were my parents, though this was impossible for me to know otherwise than
by hearsay. By bringing all this into my consideration, thou didst persuade me that
it was not the ones who believed thy books--which with so great authority thou hast
established among nearly all nations--but those who did not believe them who were
to be blamed. Moreover, those men were not to be listened to who would say to me,
“How do you know that those Scriptures were imparted to mankind by the Spirit of
the one and most true God?” For this was the point that was most of all to be
believed, since no wranglings of blasphemous questions such as I had read in the
books of the self-contradicting philosophers could once snatch from me the belief
that thou dost exist--although what thou art I did not know--and that to thee
belongs the governance of human affairs.
8. This much I believed, some times more strongly than other times. But I
always believed both that thou art and that thou hast a care for us,160 although I
was ignorant both as to what should be thought about thy substance and as to
which way led, or led back, to thee. Thus, since we are too weak by unaided reason
to find out truth, and since, because of this, we need the authority of the Holy
Writings, I had now begun to believe that thou wouldst not, under any
circumstances, have given such eminent authority to those Scriptures throughout
all lands if it had not been that through them thy will may be believed in and that
thou mightest be sought. For, as to those passages in the Scripture which had
heretofore appeared incongruous and offensive to me, now that I had heard several
of them expounded reasonably, I could see that they were to be resolved by the
mysteries of spiritual interpretation. The authority of Scripture seemed to me all
the more revered and worthy of devout belief because, although it was visible for all
to read, it reserved the full majesty of its secret wisdom within its spiritual
profundity. While it stooped to all in the great plainness of its language and
simplicity of style, it yet required the closest attention of the most serious-minded-so that it might receive all into its common bosom, and direct some few through its
narrow passages toward thee, yet many more than would have been the case had
there not been in it such a lofty authority, which nevertheless allured multitudes to
its bosom by its holy humility. I continued to reflect upon these things, and thou
wast with me. I sighed, and thou didst hear me. I vacillated, and thou guidedst me.
I roamed the broad way of the world, and thou didst not desert me.
CHAPTER VI
9. I was still eagerly aspiring to honors, money, and matrimony; and thou
didst mock me. In pursuit of these ambitions I endured the most bitter hardships, in
which thou wast being the more gracious the less thou wouldst allow anything that
was not thee to grow sweet to me. Look into my heart, O Lord, whose prompting it is
that I should recall all this, and confess it to thee. Now let my soul cleave to thee,
159Nisi crederentur, omnino in hac vita nihil ageremus, which should be set alongside the more
famous nisi crederitis, non intelligetis (Enchiridion, XIII, 14). This is the basic assumption of
Augustine's whole epistemology. See Robert E. Cushman, "Faith and Reason in the Thought of St.
Augustine," in Church History (XIX, 4, 1950), pp. 271-294.
160Cf. Heb. 11:6.
now that thou hast freed her from that fast-sticking glue of death.
How wretched she was! And thou didst irritate her sore wound so that she
might forsake all else and turn to thee--who art above all and without whom all
things would be nothing at all--so that she should be converted and healed. How
wretched I was at that time, and how thou didst deal with me so as to make me
aware of my wretchedness, I recall from the incident of the day on which I was
preparing to recite a panegyric on the emperor. In it I was to deliver many a lie, and
the lying was to be applauded by those who knew I was lying. My heart was
agitated with this sense of guilt and it seethed with the fever of my uneasiness. For,
while walking along one of the streets of Milan, I saw a poor beggar--with what I
believe was a full belly--joking and hilarious. And I sighed and spoke to the friends
around me of the many sorrows that flowed from our madness, because in spite of
all our exertions--such as those I was then laboring in, dragging the burden of my
unhappiness under the spur of ambition, and, by dragging it, increasing it at the
same time--still and all we aimed only to attain that very happiness which this
beggar had reached before us; and there was a grim chance that we should never
attain it! For what he had obtained through a few coins, got by his begging, I was
still scheming for by many a wretched and tortuous turning--namely, the joy of a
passing felicity. He had not, indeed, gained true joy, but, at the same time, with all
my ambitions, I was seeking one still more untrue. Anyhow, he was now joyous and
I was anxious. He was free from care, and I was full of alarms. Now, if anyone
should inquire of me whether I should prefer to be merry or anxious, I would reply,
“Merry.” Again, if I had been asked whether I should prefer to be as he was or as I
myself then was, I would have chosen to be myself; though I was beset with cares
and alarms. But would not this have been a false choice? Was the contrast valid?
Actually, I ought not to prefer myself to him because I happened to be more learned
than he was; for I got no great pleasure from my learning, but sought, rather, to
please men by its exhibition--and this not to instruct, but only to please. Thus thou
didst break my bones with the rod of thy correction.
10. Let my soul take its leave of those who say: “It makes a difference as to
the object from which a man derives his joy. The beggar rejoiced in drunkenness;
you longed to rejoice in glory.” What glory, O Lord? The kind that is not in thee, for,
just as his was no true joy, so was mine no true glory; but it turned my head all the
more. He would get over his drunkenness that same night, but I had slept with
mine many a night and risen again with it, and was to sleep again and rise again
with it, I know not how many times. It does indeed make a difference as to the
object from which a man’s joy is gained. I know this is so, and I know that the joy of
a faithful hope is incomparably beyond such vanity. Yet, at the same time, this
beggar was beyond me, for he truly was the happier man--not only because he was
thoroughly steeped in his mirth while I was torn to pieces with my cares, but
because he had gotten his wine by giving good wishes to the passers-by while I was
following after the ambition of my pride by lying. Much to this effect I said to my
good companions, and I saw how readily they reacted pretty much as I did. Thus I
found that it went ill with me; and I fretted, and doubled that very ill. And if any
prosperity smiled upon me, I loathed to seize it, for almost before I could grasp it, it
would fly away.
CHAPTER VII
11. Those of us who were living like friends together used to bemoan our lot
in our common talk; but I discussed it with Alypius and Nebridius more especially
and in very familiar terms. Alypius had been born in the same town as I; his
parents were of the highest rank there, but he was a bit younger than I. He had
studied under me when I first taught in our town, and then afterward at Carthage.
He esteemed me highly because I appeared to him good and learned, and I esteemed
him for his inborn love of virtue, which was uncommonly marked in a man so young.
But in the whirlpool of Carthaginian fashion--where frivolous spectacles are hotly
followed--he had been inveigled into the madness of the gladiatorial games. While
he was miserably tossed about in this fad, I was teaching rhetoric there in a public
school. At that time he was not attending my classes because of some ill feeling that
had arisen between me and his father. I then came to discover how fatally he doted
upon the circus, and I was deeply grieved, for he seemed likely to cast away his very
great promise--if, indeed, he had not already done so. Yet I had no means of
advising him, or any way of reclaiming him through restraint, either by the
kindness of a friend or by the authority of a teacher. For I imagined that his feelings
toward me were the same as his father’s. But this turned out not to be the case.
Indeed, disregarding his father’s will in the matter, he began to be friendly and to
visit my lecture room, to listen for a while and then depart.
12. But it slipped my memory to try to deal with his problem, to prevent him
from ruining his excellent mind in his blind and headstrong passion for frivolous
sport. But thou, O Lord, who holdest the helm of all that thou hast created,161 thou
hadst not forgotten him who was one day to be numbered among thy sons, a chief
minister of thy sacrament.162 And in order that his amendment might plainly be
attributed to thee, thou broughtest it about through me while I knew nothing of it.
One day, when I was sitting in my accustomed place with my scholars before
me, he came in, greeted me, sat himself down, and fixed his attention on the subject
I was then discussing. It so happened that I had a passage in hand and, while I was
interpreting it, a simile occurred to me, taken from the gladiatorial games. It struck
me as relevant to make more pleasant and plain the point I wanted to convey by
adding a biting gibe at those whom that madness had enthralled. Thou knowest, O
our God, that I had no thought at that time of curing Alypius of that plague. But he
took it to himself and thought that I would not have said it but for his sake. And
what any other man would have taken as an occasion of offense against me, this
worthy young man took as a reason for being offended at himself, and for loving me
the more fervently. Thou hast said it long ago and written in thy Book, “Rebuke a
wise man, and he will love you.” 163 Now I had not rebuked him; but thou who canst
make use of everything, both witting and unwitting, and in the order which thou
thyself knowest to be best--and that order is right--thou madest my heart and
tongue into burning coals with which thou mightest cauterize and cure the hopeful
mind thus languishing. Let him be silent in thy praise who does not meditate on thy
mercy, which rises up in my inmost parts to confess to thee. For after that speech
Alypius rushed up out of that deep pit into which he had willfully plunged and in
which he had been blinded by its miserable pleasures. And he roused his mind with
a resolve to moderation. When he had done this, all the filth of the gladiatorial
pleasures dropped away from him, and he went to them no more. Then he also
prevailed upon his reluctant father to let him be my pupil. And, at the son’s urging,
the father at last consented. Thus Alypius began again to hear my lectures and
became involved with me in the same superstition, loving in the Manicheans that
outward display of ascetic discipline which he believed was true and unfeigned. It
161Cf. Plato, Politicus, 273 D.
162Alypius was more than Augustine's close friend; he became bishop of Tagaste and was prominent
in local Church affairs in the province of Africa.
163Prov. 9:8.
was, however, a senseless and seducing continence, which ensnared precious souls
who were not able as yet to reach the height of true virtue, and who were easily
beguiled with the veneer of what was only a shadowy and feigned virtue.
CHAPTER VIII
13. He had gone on to Rome before me to study law--which was the worldly
way which his parents were forever urging him to pursue--and there he was carried
away again with an incredible passion for the gladiatorial shows. For, although he
had been utterly opposed to such spectacles and detested them, one day he met by
chance a company of his acquaintances and fellow students returning from dinner;
and, with a friendly violence, they drew him, resisting and objecting vehemently,
into the amphitheater, on a day of those cruel and murderous shows. He protested
to them: “Though you drag my body to that place and set me down there, you cannot
force me to give my mind or lend my eyes to these shows. Thus I will be absent
while present, and so overcome both you and them.” When they heard this, they
dragged him on in, probably interested to see whether he could do as he said. When
they got to the arena, and had taken what seats they could get, the whole place
became a tumult of inhuman frenzy. But Alypius kept his eyes closed and forbade
his mind to roam abroad after such wickedness. Would that he had shut his ears
also! For when one of the combatants fell in the fight, a mighty cry from the whole
audience stirred him so strongly that, overcome by curiosity and still prepared (as
he thought) to despise and rise superior to it no matter what it was, he opened his
eyes and was struck with a deeper wound in his soul than the victim whom he
desired to see had been in his body. Thus he fell more miserably than the one whose
fall had raised that mighty clamor which had entered through his ears and
unlocked his eyes to make way for the wounding and beating down of his soul,
which was more audacious than truly valiant--also it was weaker because it
presumed on its own strength when it ought to have depended on Thee. For, as soon
as he saw the blood, he drank in with it a savage temper, and he did not turn away,
but fixed his eyes on the bloody pastime, unwittingly drinking in the madness-delighted with the wicked contest and drunk with blood lust. He was now no longer
the same man who came in, but was one of the mob he came into, a true companion
of those who had brought him thither. Why need I say more? He looked, he shouted,
he was excited, and he took away with him the madness that would stimulate him
to come again: not only with those who first enticed him, but even without them;
indeed, dragging in others besides. And yet from all this, with a most powerful and
most merciful hand, thou didst pluck him and taught him not to rest his confidence
in himself but in thee--but not till long after.
CHAPTER IX
14. But this was all being stored up in his memory as medicine for the future.
So also was that other incident when he was still studying under me at Carthage
and was meditating at noonday in the market place on what he had to recite--as
scholars usually have to do for practice--and thou didst allow him to be arrested by
the police officers in the market place as a thief. I believe, O my God, that thou didst
allow this for no other reason than that this man who was in the future to prove so
great should now begin to learn that, in making just decisions, a man should not
readily be condemned by other men with reckless credulity.
For as he was walking up and down alone before the judgment seat with his
tablets and pen, lo, a young man--another one of the scholars, who was the real
thief--secretly brought a hatchet and, without Alypius seeing him, got in as far as
the leaden bars which protected the silversmith shop and began to hack away at the
lead gratings. But when the noise of the hatchet was heard the silversmiths below
began to call to each other in whispers and sent men to arrest whomsoever they
should find. The thief heard their voices and ran away, leaving his hatchet because
he was afraid to be caught with it. Now Alypius, who had not seen him come in, got
a glimpse of him as he went out and noticed that he went off in great haste. Being
curious to know the reasons, he went up to the place, where he found the hatchet,
and stood wondering and pondering when, behold, those that were sent caught him
alone, holding the hatchet which had made the noise which had startled them and
brought them there. They seized him and dragged him away, gathering the tenants
of the market place about them and boasting that they had caught a notorious thief.
Thereupon he was led away to appear before the judge.
15. But this is as far as his lesson was to go. For immediately, O Lord, thou
didst come to the rescue of his innocence, of which thou wast the sole witness. As he
was being led off to prison or punishment, they were met by the master builder who
had charge of the public buildings. The captors were especially glad to meet him
because he had more than once suspected them of stealing the goods that had been
lost out of the market place. Now, at last, they thought they could convince him who
it was that had committed the thefts. But the custodian had often met Alypius at
the house of a certain senator, whose receptions he used to attend. He recognized
him at once and, taking his hand, led him apart from the throng, inquired the cause
of all the trouble, and learned what had occurred. He then commanded all the
rabble still around--and very uproarious and full of threatenings they were--to come
along with him, and they came to the house of the young man who had committed
the deed. There, before the door, was a slave boy so young that he was not
restrained from telling the whole story by fear of harming his master. And he had
followed his master to the market place. Alypius recognized him, and whispered to
the architect, who showed the boy the hatchet and asked whose it was. “Ours,” he
answered directly. And, being further questioned, he disclosed the whole affair.
Thus the guilt was shifted to that household and the rabble, who had begun to
triumph over Alypius, were shamed. And so he went away home, this man who was
to be the future steward of thy Word and judge of so many causes in thy Church--a
wiser and more experienced man.
CHAPTER X
16. I found him at Rome, and he was bound to me with the strongest possible
ties, and he went with me to Milan, in order that he might not be separated from
me, and also that he might obtain some law practice, for which he had qualified
with a view to pleasing his parents more than himself. He had already sat three
times as assessor, showing an integrity that seemed strange to many others, though
he thought them strange who could prefer gold to integrity. His character had also
been tested, not only by the bait of covetousness, but by the spur of fear. At Rome he
was assessor to the secretary of the Italian Treasury. There was at that time a very
powerful senator to whose favors many were indebted, and of whom many stood in
fear. In his usual highhanded way he demanded to have a favor granted him that
was forbidden by the laws. This Alypius resisted. A bribe was promised, but he
scorned it with all his heart. Threats were employed, but he trampled them
underfoot--so that all men marveled at so rare a spirit, which neither coveted the
friendship nor feared the enmity of a man at once so powerful and so widely known
for his great resources of helping his friends and doing harm to his enemies. Even
the official whose counselor Alypius was--although he was unwilling that the favor
should be granted--would not openly refuse the request, but passed the
responsibility on to Alypius, alleging that he would not permit him to give his
assent. And the truth was that even if the judge had agreed, Alypius would have
simply left the court.
There was one matter, however, which appealed to his love of learning, in
which he was very nearly led astray. He found out that he might have books copied
for himself at praetorian rates [i.e., at public expense]. But his sense of justice
prevailed, and he changed his mind for the better, thinking that the rule that
forbade him was still more profitable than the privilege that his office would have
allowed him. These are little things, but “he that is faithful in a little matter is
faithful also in a great one.”164 Nor can that possibly be void which was uttered by
the mouth of Thy truth: “If, therefore, you have not been faithful in the unrighteous
mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches? And if you have not been
faithful in that which is another man’s, who shall give you that which is your
own?”165 Such a man was Alypius, who clung to me at that time and who wavered
in his purpose, just as I did, as to what course of life to follow.
17. Nebridius also had come to Milan for no other reason than that he might
live with me in a most ardent search after truth and wisdom. He had left his native
place near Carthage--and Carthage itself, where he usually lived--leaving behind
his fine family estate, his house, and his mother, who would not follow him. Like
me, he sighed; like me, he wavered; an ardent seeker after the true life and a most
acute analyst of the most abstruse questions. So there were three begging mouths,
sighing out their wants one to the other, and waiting upon thee, that thou mightest
give them their meat in due season.166 And in all the vexations with which thy
mercy followed our worldly pursuits, we sought for the reason why we suffered so-and all was darkness! We turned away groaning and exclaiming, “How long shall
these things be?” And this we often asked, yet for all our asking we did not
relinquish them; for as yet we had not discovered anything certain which, when we
gave those others up, we might grasp in their stead.
CHAPTER XI
18. And I especially puzzled and wondered when I remembered how long a
time had passed since my nineteenth year, in which I had first fallen in love with
wisdom and had determined as soon as I could find her to abandon the empty hopes
and mad delusions of vain desires. Behold, I was now getting close to thirty, still
stuck fast in the same mire, still greedy of enjoying present goods which fly away
and distract me; and I was still saying, “Tomorrow I shall discover it; behold, it will
become plain, and I shall see it; behold, Faustus will come and explain everything.”
Or I would say 167:”O you mighty Academics, is there no certainty that man can
grasp for the guidance of his life? No, let us search the more diligently, and let us
not despair. See, the things in the Church’s books that appeared so absurd to us
before do not appear so now, and may be otherwise and honestly interpreted. I will
set my feet upon that step where, as a child, my parents placed me, until the clear
truth is discovered. But where and when shall it be sought? Ambrose has no leisure164Luke 16:10.
165Luke 16:11, 12.
166Cf. Ps. 145:15.
167Here begins a long soliloquy which sums up his turmoil over the past decade and his present
plight of confusion and indecision.
-we have no leisure to read. Where are we to find the books? How or where could I
get hold of them? From whom could I borrow them? Let me set a schedule for my
days and set apart certain hours for the health of the soul. A great hope has risen
up in us, because the Catholic faith does not teach what we thought it did, and
vainly accused it of. Its teachers hold it as an abomination to believe that God is
limited by the form of a human body. And do I doubt that I should ‘knock’ in order
for the rest also to be ‘opened’ unto me? My pupils take up the morning hours; what
am I doing with the rest of the day? Why not do this? But, then, when am I to visit
my influential friends, whose favors I need? When am I to prepare the orations that
I sell to the class? When would I get some recreation and relax my mind from the
strain of work?
19. “Perish everything and let us dismiss these idle triflings. Let me devote
myself solely to the search for truth. This life is unhappy, death uncertain. If it
comes upon me suddenly, in what state shall I go hence and where shall I learn
what here I have neglected? Should I not indeed suffer the punishment of my
negligence here? But suppose death cuts off and finishes all care and feeling. This
too is a question that calls for inquiry. God forbid that it should be so. It is not
without reason, it is not in vain, that the stately authority of the Christian faith has
spread over the entire world, and God would never have done such great things for
us if the life of the soul perished with the death of the body. Why, therefore, do I
delay in abandoning my hopes of this world and giving myself wholly to seek after
God and the blessed life?
“But wait a moment. This life also is pleasant, and it has a sweetness of its
own, not at all negligible. We must not abandon it lightly, for it would be shameful
to lapse back into it again. See now, it is important to gain some post of honor. And
what more should I desire? I have crowds of influential friends, if nothing else; and,
if I push my claims, a governorship may be offered me, and a wife with some money,
so that she would not be an added expense. This would be the height of my desire.
Many men, who are great and worthy of imitation, have combined the pursuit of
wisdom with a marriage life.”
20. While I talked about these things, and the winds of opinions veered about
and tossed my heart hither and thither, time was slipping away. I delayed my
conversion to the Lord; I postponed from day to day the life in thee, but I could not
postpone the daily death in myself. I was enamored of a happy life, but I still feared
to seek it in its own abode, and so I fled from it while I sought it. I thought I should
be miserable if I were deprived of the embraces of a woman, and I never gave a
thought to the medicine that thy mercy has provided for the healing of that
infirmity, for I had never tried it. As for continence, I imagined that it depended on
one’s own strength, though I found no such strength in myself, for in my folly I
knew not what is written, “None can be continent unless thou dost grant it.”168
Certainly thou wouldst have given it, if I had beseeched thy ears with heartfelt
groaning, and if I had cast my care upon thee with firm faith.
CHAPTER XII
21. Actually, it was Alypius who prevented me from marrying, urging that if I
did so it would not be possible for us to live together and to have as much
undistracted leisure in the love of wisdom as we had long desired. For he himself
was so chaste that it was wonderful, all the more because in his early youth he had
entered upon the path of promiscuity, but had not continued in it. Instead, feeling
168Cf. Wis. 8:21 (LXX).
sorrow and disgust at it, he had lived from that time down to the present most
continently. I quoted against him the examples of men who had been married and
still lovers of wisdom, who had pleased God and had been loyal and affectionate to
their friends. I fell far short of them in greatness of soul, and, enthralled with the
disease of my carnality and its deadly sweetness, I dragged my chain along, fearing
to be loosed of it. Thus I rejected the words of him who counseled me wisely, as if
the hand that would have loosed the chain only hurt my wound. Moreover, the
serpent spoke to Alypius himself by me, weaving and lying in his path, by my
tongue to catch him with pleasant snares in which his honorable and free feet might
be entangled.
22. For he wondered that I, for whom he had such a great esteem, should be
stuck so fast in the gluepot of pleasure as to maintain, whenever we discussed the
subject, that I could not possibly live a celibate life. And when I urged in my defense
against his accusing questions that the hasty and stolen delight, which he had
tasted and now hardly remembered, and therefore too easily disparaged, was not to
be compared with a settled acquaintance with it; and that, if to this stable
acquaintance were added the honorable name of marriage, he would not then be
astonished at my inability to give it up--when I spoke thus, then he also began to
wish to be married, not because he was overcome by the lust for such pleasures, but
out of curiosity. For, he said, he longed to know what that could be without which
my life, which he thought was so happy, seemed to me to be no life at all, but a
punishment. For he who wore no chain was amazed at my slavery, and his
amazement awoke the desire for experience, and from that he would have gone on
to the experiment itself, and then perhaps he would have fallen into the very
slavery that amazed him in me, since he was ready to enter into “a covenant with
death,” 169 for “he that loves danger shall fall into it.”170
Now, the question of conjugal honor in the ordering of a good married life and
the bringing up of children interested us but slightly. What afflicted me most and
what had made me already a slave to it was the habit of satisfying an insatiable
lust; but Alypius was about to be enslaved by a merely curious wonder. This is the
state we were in until thou, O Most High, who never forsakest our lowliness, didst
take pity on our misery and didst come to our rescue in wonderful and secret ways.
CHAPTER XIII
23. Active efforts were made to get me a wife. I wooed; I was engaged; and my
mother took the greatest pains in the matter. For her hope was that, when I was
once married, I might be washed clean in health-giving baptism for which I was
being daily prepared, as she joyfully saw, taking note that her desires and promises
were being fulfilled in my faith. Yet, when, at my request and her own impulse, she
called upon thee daily with strong, heartfelt cries, that thou wouldst, by a vision,
disclose unto her a leading about my future marriage, thou wouldst not. She did,
indeed, see certain vain and fantastic things, such as are conjured up by the strong
preoccupation of the human spirit, and these she supposed had some reference to
me. And she told me about them, but not with the confidence she usually had when
thou hadst shown her anything. For she always said that she could distinguish, by a
certain feeling impossible to describe, between thy revelations and the dreams of
her own soul. Yet the matter was pressed forward, and proposals were made for a
169Isa. 28:15.
170Ecclus. 3:26.
girl who was as yet some two years too young to marry.171 And because she pleased
me, I agreed to wait for her.
CHAPTER XIV
24. Many in my band of friends, consulting about and abhorring the turbulent
vexations of human life, had often considered and were now almost determined to
undertake a peaceful life, away from the turmoil of men. This we thought could be
obtained by bringing together what we severally owned and thus making of it a
common household, so that in the sincerity of our friendship nothing should belong
more to one than to the other; but all were to have one purse and the whole was to
belong to each and to all. We thought that this group might consist of ten persons,
some of whom were very rich--especially Romanianus, my fellow townsman, an
intimate friend from childhood days. He had been brought up to the court on grave
business matters and he was the most earnest of us all about the project and his
voice was of great weight in commending it because his estate was far more ample
than that of the others. We had resolved, also, that each year two of us should be
managers and provide all that was needful, while the rest were left undisturbed.
But when we began to reflect whether this would be permitted by our wives, which
some of us had already and others hoped to have, the whole plan, so excellently
framed, collapsed in our hands and was utterly wrecked and cast aside. From this
we fell again into sighs and groans, and our steps followed the broad and beaten
ways of the world; for many thoughts were in our hearts, but “Thy counsel standeth
fast forever.”172 In thy counsel thou didst mock ours, and didst prepare thy own
plan, for it was thy purpose “to give us meat in due season, to open thy hand, and to
fill our souls with blessing.”173
CHAPTER XV
25. Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied. My mistress was torn from my
side as an impediment to my marriage, and my heart which clung to her was torn
and wounded till it bled. And she went back to Africa, vowing to thee never to know
any other man and leaving with me my natural son by her. But I, unhappy as I was,
and weaker than a woman, could not bear the delay of the two years that should
elapse before I could obtain the bride I sought. And so, since I was not a lover of
wedlock so much as a slave of lust, I procured another mistress--not a wife, of
course. Thus in bondage to a lasting habit, the disease of my soul might be nursed
up and kept in its vigor or even increased until it reached the realm of matrimony.
Nor indeed was the wound healed that had been caused by cutting away my former
mistress; only it ceased to burn and throb, and began to fester, and was more
dangerous because it was less painful.
CHAPTER XVI
26. Thine be the praise; unto thee be the glory, O Fountain of mercies. I
became more wretched and thou didst come nearer. Thy right hand was ever ready
to pluck me out of the mire and to cleanse me, but I did not know it. Nor did
anything call me back from a still deeper plunge into carnal pleasure except the fear
171The normal minimum legal age for marriage was twelve! Cf. Justinian, Institutiones, I, 10:22.
172Cf. Ps. 33:11.
173Cf. Ps. 145:15, 16.
of death and of thy future judgment, which, amid all the waverings of my opinions,
never faded from my breast. And I discussed with my friends, Alypius and
Nebridius, the nature of good and evil, maintaining that, in my judgment, Epicurus
would have carried off the palm if I had not believed what Epicurus would not
believe: that after death there remains a life for the soul, and places of recompense.
And I demanded of them: “Suppose we are immortal and live in the enjoyment of
perpetual bodily pleasure, and that without any fear of losing it--why, then, should
we not be happy, or why should we search for anything else?” I did not know that
this was in fact the root of my misery: that I was so fallen and blinded that I could
not discern the light of virtue and of beauty which must be embraced for its own
sake, which the eye of flesh cannot see, and only the inner vision can see. Nor did I,
alas, consider the reason why I found delight in discussing these very perplexities,
shameful as they were, with my friends. For I could not be happy without friends,
even according to the notions of happiness I had then, and no matter how rich the
store of my carnal pleasures might be. Yet of a truth I loved my friends for their
own sakes, and felt that they in turn loved me for my own sake.
O crooked ways! Woe to the audacious soul which hoped that by forsaking
thee it would find some better thing! It tossed and turned, upon back and side and
belly--but the bed is hard, and thou alone givest it rest.174 And lo, thou art near, and
thou deliverest us from our wretched wanderings and establishest us in thy way,
and thou comfortest us and sayest, “Run, I will carry you; yea, I will lead you home
and then I will set you free.”175
174A variation on "restless is our heart until it comes to find rest in Thee," Bk. I, Ch. I, 1.
175Isa. 46:4.
BOOK SEVEN
The conversion to Neoplatonism. Augustine traces his growing disenchantment with
the Manichean conceptions of God and evil and the dawning understanding of God’s
incorruptibility. But his thought is still bound by his materialistic notions of reality.
He rejects astrology and turns to the stud of Neoplatonism. There follows an analysis
of the differences between Platonism and Christianity and a remarkable account of
his appropriation of Plotinian wisdom and his experience of a Plotinian ecstasy.
From this, he comes finally to the diligent study of the Bible, especially the writings
of the apostle Paul. His pilgrimage is drawing toward its goal, as he begins to know
Jesus Christ and to be drawn to him in hesitant faith.
CHAPTER I
1. Dead now was that evil and shameful youth of mine, and I was passing
into full manhood. 176 As I increased in years, the worse was my vanity. For I could
not conceive of any substance but the sort I could see with my own eyes. I no longer
thought of thee, O God, by the analogy of a human body. Ever since I inclined my
ear to philosophy I had avoided this error--and the truth on this point I rejoiced to
find in the faith of our spiritual mother, thy Catholic Church. Yet I could not see
how else to conceive thee. And I, a man--and such a man!-sought to conceive thee,
the sovereign and only true God. In my inmost heart, I believed that thou art
incorruptible and inviolable and unchangeable, because--though I knew not how or
why--I could still see plainly and without doubt that the corruptible is inferior to the
incorruptible, the inviolable obviously superior to its opposite, and the
unchangeable better than the changeable.
My heart cried out violently against all fantasms,177 and with this one clear
certainty I endeavored to brush away the swarm of unclean flies that swarmed
around the eyes of my mind. But behold they were scarcely scattered before they
gathered again, buzzed against my face, and beclouded my vision. I no longer
thought of God in the analogy of a human body, yet I was constrained to conceive
thee to be some kind of body in space, either infused into the world, or infinitely
diffused beyond the world--and this was the incorruptible, inviolable, unchangeable
substance, which I thought was better than the corruptible, the violable, and the
changeable. 178 For whatever I conceived to be deprived of the dimensions of space
appeared to me to be nothing, absolutely nothing; not even a void, for if a body is
taken out of space, or if space is emptied of all its contents (of earth, water, air, or
heaven), yet it remains an empty space--a spacious nothing, as it were.
2. Being thus gross-hearted and not clear even to myself, I then held that
whatever had neither length nor breadth nor density nor solidity, and did not or
could not receive such dimensions, was absolutely nothing. For at that time my
mind dwelt only with ideas, which resembled the forms with which my eyes are still
familiar, nor could I see that the act of thought, by which I formed those ideas, was
itself immaterial, and yet it could not have formed them if it were not itself a
measurable entity.
176Thirty years old; although the term "youth" (juventus) normally included the years twenty to
forty.
177Phantasmata, mental constructs, which may be internally coherent but correspond to no reality
outside the mind.
178Echoes here of Plato's Timaeus and Plotinus' Enneads, although with no effort to recall the
sources or elaborate the ontological theory.
So also I thought about thee, O Life of my life, as stretched out through
infinite space, interpenetrating the whole mass of the world, reaching out beyond in
all directions, to immensity without end; so that the earth should have thee, the
heaven have thee, all things have thee, and all of them be limited in thee, while
thou art placed nowhere at all. As the body of the air above the earth does not bar
the passage of the light of the sun, so that the light penetrates it, not by bursting
nor dividing, but filling it entirely, so I imagined that the body of heaven and air
and sea, and even of the earth, was all open to thee and, in all its greatest parts as
well as the smallest, was ready to receive thy presence by a secret inspiration
which, from within or without all, orders all things thou hast created. This was my
conjecture, because I was unable to think of anything else; yet it was untrue. For in
this way a greater part of the earth would contain a greater part of thee; a smaller
part, a smaller fraction of thee. All things would be full of thee in such a sense that
there would be more of thee in an elephant than in a sparrow, because one is larger
than the other and fills a larger space. And this would make the portions of thyself
present in the several portions of the world in fragments, great to the great, small to
the small. But thou art not such a one. But as yet thou hadst not enlightened my
darkness.
CHAPTER II
3. But it was not sufficient for me, O Lord, to be able to oppose those deceived
deceivers and those dumb orators--dumb because thy Word did not sound forth from
them--to oppose them with the answer which, in the old Carthaginian days,
Nebridius used to propound, shaking all of us who heard it: “What could this
imaginary people of darkness, which the Manicheans usually set up as an army
opposed to thee, have done to thee if thou hadst declined the combat?” If they
replied that it could have hurt thee, they would then have made thee violable and
corruptible. If, on the other hand, the dark could have done thee no harm, then
there was no cause for any battle at all; there was less cause for a battle in which a
part of thee, one of thy members, a child of thy own substance, should be mixed up
with opposing powers, not of thy creation; and should be corrupted and deteriorated
and changed by them from happiness into misery, so that it could not be delivered
and cleansed without thy help. This offspring of thy substance was supposed to be
the human soul to which thy Word--free, pure, and entire--could bring help when it
was being enslaved, contaminated, and corrupted. But on their hypothesis that
Word was itself corruptible because it is one and the same substance as the soul.
And therefore if they admitted that thy nature--whatsoever thou art--is
incorruptible, then all these assertions of theirs are false and should be rejected
with horror. But if thy substance is corruptible, then this is self-evidently false and
should be abhorred at first utterance. This line of argument, then, was enough
against those deceivers who ought to be cast forth from a surfeited stomach--for out
of this dilemma they could find no way of escape without dreadful sacrilege of mind
and tongue, when they think and speak such things about thee.
CHAPTER III
4. But as yet, although I said and was firmly persuaded that thou our Lord,
the true God, who madest not only our souls but our bodies as well--and not only our
souls and bodies but all creatures and all things--wast free from stain and alteration
and in no way mutable, yet I could not readily and clearly understand what was the
cause of evil. Whatever it was, I realized that the question must be so analyzed as
not to constrain me by any answer to believe that the immutable God was mutable,
lest I should myself become the thing that I was seeking out. And so I pursued the
search with a quiet mind, now in a confident feeling that what had been said by the
Manicheans--and I shrank from them with my whole heart--could not be true. I now
realized that when they asked what was the origin of evil their answer was dictated
by a wicked pride, which would rather affirm that thy nature is capable of suffering
evil than that their own nature is capable of doing it.
5. And I directed my attention to understand what I now was told, that free
will is the cause of our doing evil and that thy just judgment is the cause of our
having to suffer from its consequences. But I could not see this clearly. So then,
trying to draw the eye of my mind up out of that pit, I was plunged back into it
again, and trying often was just as often plunged back down. But one thing lifted
me up toward thy light: it was that I had come to know that I had a will as certainly
as I knew that I had life. When, therefore, I willed or was unwilling to do
something, I was utterly certain that it was none but myself who willed or was
unwilling--and immediately I realized that there was the cause of my sin. I could
see that what I did against my will I suffered rather than did; and I did not regard
such actions as faults, but rather as punishments in which I might quickly confess
that I was not unjustly punished, since I believed thee to be most just. Who was it
that put this in me, and implanted in me the root of bitterness, in spite of the fact
that I was altogether the handiwork of my most sweet God? If the devil is to blame,
who made the devil himself? And if he was a good angel who by his own wicked will
became the devil, how did there happen to be in him that wicked will by which he
became a devil, since a good Creator made him wholly a good angel? By these
reflections was I again cast down and stultified. Yet I was not plunged into that hell
of error--where no man confesses to thee--where I thought that thou didst suffer
evil, rather than that men do it.
CHAPTER IV
6. For in my struggle to solve the rest of my difficulties, I now assumed
henceforth as settled truth that the incorruptible must be superior to the
corruptible, and I did acknowledge that thou, whatever thou art, art incorruptible.
For there never yet was, nor will be, a soul able to conceive of anything better than
thee, who art the highest and best good. 179 And since most truly and certainly the
incorruptible is to be placed above the corruptible--as I now admit it--it followed
that I could rise in my thoughts to something better than my God, if thou wert not
incorruptible. When, therefore, I saw that the incorruptible was to be preferred to
the corruptible, I saw then where I ought to seek thee, and where I should look for
the source of evil: that is, the corruption by which thy substance can in no way be
profaned. For it is obvious that corruption in no way injures our God, by no
inclination, by no necessity, by no unforeseen chance--because he is our God, and
what he wills is good, and he himself is that good. But to be corrupted is not good.
Nor art thou compelled to do anything against thy will, since thy will is not greater
than thy power. But it would have to be greater if thou thyself wert greater than
thyself--for the will and power of God are God himself. And what can take thee by
surprise, since thou knowest all, and there is no sort of nature but thou knowest it?
And what more should we say about why that substance which God is cannot be
corrupted; because if this were so it could not be God?
179Cf. the famous "definition" of God in Anselm's ontological argument: "that being than whom no
greater can be conceived." Cf. Proslogium, II-V.
CHAPTER V
7. And I kept seeking for an answer to the question, Whence is evil? And I
sought it in an evil way, and I did not see the evil in my very search. I marshaled
before the sight of my spirit all creation: all that we see of earth and sea and air and
stars and trees and animals; and all that we do not see, the firmament of the sky
above and all the angels and all spiritual things, for my imagination arranged these
also, as if they were bodies, in this place or that. And I pictured to myself thy
creation as one vast mass, composed of various kinds of bodies--some of which were
actually bodies, some of those which I imagined spirits were like. I pictured this
mass as vast--of course not in its full dimensions, for these I could not know--but as
large as I could possibly think, still only finite on every side. But thou, O Lord, I
imagined as environing the mass on every side and penetrating it, still infinite in
every direction--as if there were a sea everywhere, and everywhere through
measureless space nothing but an infinite sea; and it contained within itself some
sort of sponge, huge but still finite, so that the sponge would in all its parts be filled
from the immeasurable sea.180
Thus I conceived thy creation itself to be finite, and filled by thee, the infinite.
And I said, “Behold God, and behold what God hath created!” God is good, yea, most
mightily and incomparably better than all his works. But yet he who is good has
created them good; behold how he encircles and fills them. Where, then, is evil, and
whence does it come and how has it crept in? What is its root and what its seed?
Has it no being at all? Why, then, do we fear and shun what has no being? Or if we
fear it needlessly, then surely that fear is evil by which the heart is unnecessarily
stabbed and tortured--and indeed a greater evil since we have nothing real to fear,
and yet do fear. Therefore, either that is evil which we fear, or the act of fearing is
in itself evil. But, then, whence does it come, since God who is good has made all
these things good? Indeed, he is the greatest and chiefest Good, and hath created
these lesser goods; but both Creator and created are all good. Whence, then, is evil?
Or, again, was there some evil matter out of which he made and formed and ordered
it, but left something in his creation that he did not convert into good? But why
should this be? Was he powerless to change the whole lump so that no evil would
remain in it, if he is the Omnipotent? Finally, why would he make anything at all
out of such stuff? Why did he not, rather, annihilate it by his same almighty power?
Could evil exist contrary to his will? And if it were from eternity, why did he permit
it to be nonexistent for unmeasured intervals of time in the past, and why, then,
was he pleased to make something out of it after so long a time? Or, if he wished
now all of a sudden to create something, would not an almighty being have chosen
to annihilate this evil matter and live by himself--the perfect, true, sovereign, and
infinite Good? Or, if it were not good that he who was good should not also be the
framer and creator of what was good, then why was that evil matter not removed
and brought to nothing, so that he might form good matter, out of which he might
then create all things? For he would not be omnipotent if he were not able to create
something good without being assisted by that matter which had not been created
by himself.
Such perplexities I revolved in my wretched breast, overwhelmed with
gnawing cares lest I die before I discovered the truth. And still the faith of thy
Christ, our Lord and Saviour, as it was taught me by the Catholic Church, stuck
fast in my heart. As yet it was unformed on many points and diverged from the rule
180This simile is Augustine's apparently original improvement on Plotinus' similar figure of the net
in the sea; Enneads, IV, 3:9.
of right doctrine, but my mind did not utterly lose it, and every day drank in more
and more of it.
CHAPTER VI
8. By now I had also repudiated the lying divinations and impious absurdities
of the astrologers. Let thy mercies, out of the depth of my soul, confess this to thee
also, O my God. For thou, thou only (for who else is it who calls us back from the
death of all errors except the Life which does not know how to die and the Wisdom
which gives light to minds that need it, although it itself has no need of light--by
which the whole universe is governed, even to the fluttering leaves of the trees?)-thou alone providedst also for my obstinacy with which I struggled against
Vindicianus, a sagacious old man, and Nebridius, that remarkably talented young
man. The former declared vehemently and the latter frequently--though with some
reservation--that no art existed by which we foresee future things. But men’s
surmises have oftentimes the help of chance, and out of many things which they
foretold some came to pass unawares to the predictors, who lighted on the truth by
making so many guesses.
And thou also providedst a friend for me, who was not a negligent consulter
of the astrologers even though he was not thoroughly skilled in the art either--as I
said, one who consulted them out of curiosity. He knew a good, deal about it, which,
he said, he had heard from his father, and he never realized how far his ideas would
help to overthrow my estimation of that art. His name was Firminus and he had
received a liberal education and was a cultivated rhetorician. It so happened that he
consulted me, as one very dear to him, as to what I thought about some affairs of his
in which his worldly hopes had risen, viewed in the light of his so-called horoscope.
Although I had now begun to learn in this matter toward Nebridius’ opinion, I did
not quite decline to speculate about the matter or to tell him what thoughts still
came into my irresolute mind, although I did add that I was almost persuaded now
that these were but empty and ridiculous follies. He then told me that his father
had been very much interested in such books, and that he had a friend who was as
much interested in them as he was himself. They, in combined study and
consultation, fanned the flame of their affection for this folly, going so far as to
observe the moment when the dumb animals which belonged to their household
gave birth to young, and then observed the position of the heavens with regard to
them, so as to gather fresh evidence for this so-called art. Moreover, he reported
that his father had told him that, at the same time his mother was about to give
birth to him [Firminus], a female slave of a friend of his father’s was also pregnant.
This could not be hidden from her master, who kept records with the most diligent
exactness of the birth dates even of his dogs. And so it happened to pass that--under
the most careful observations, one for his wife and the other for his servant, with
exact calculations of the days, hours, and minutes--both women were delivered at
the same moment, so that both were compelled to cast the selfsame horoscope, down
to the minute: the one for his son, the other for his young slave. For as soon as the
women began to be in labor, they each sent word to the other as to what was
happening in their respective houses and had messengers ready to dispatch to one
another as soon as they had information of the actual birth--and each, of course,
knew instantly the exact time. It turned out, Firminus said, that the messengers
from the respective houses met one another at a point equidistant from either
house, so that neither of them could discern any difference either in the position of
the stars or any other of the most minute points. And yet Firminus, born in a high
estate in his parents’ house, ran his course through the prosperous paths of this
world, was increased in wealth, and elevated to honors. At the same time, the slave,
the yoke of his condition being still unrelaxed, continued to serve his masters as
Firminus, who knew him, was able to report.
9. Upon hearing and believing these things related by so reliable a person all
my resistance melted away. First, I endeavored to reclaim Firminus himself from
his superstition by telling him that after inspecting his horoscope, I ought, if I could
foretell truly, to have seen in it parents eminent among their neighbors, a noble
family in its own city, a good birth, a proper education, and liberal learning. But if
that servant had consulted me with the same horoscope, since he had the same one,
I ought again to tell him likewise truly that I saw in it the lowliness of his origin,
the abjectness of his condition, and everything else different and contrary to the
former prediction. If, then, by casting up the same horoscopes I should, in order to
speak the truth, make contrary analyses, or else speak falsely if I made identical
readings, then surely it followed that whatever was truly foretold by the analysis of
the horoscopes was not by art, but by chance. And whatever was said falsely was
not from incompetence in the art, but from the error of chance.
10. An opening being thus made in my darkness, I began to consider other
implications involved here. Suppose that one of the fools--who followed such an
occupation and whom I longed to assail, and to reduce to confusion--should urge
against me that Firminus had given me false information, or that his father had
informed him falsely. I then turned my thoughts to those that are born twins, who
generally come out of the womb so near the one to the other that the short interval
between them--whatever importance they may ascribe to it in the nature of things-cannot be noted by human observation or expressed in those tables which the
astrologer uses to examine when he undertakes to pronounce the truth. But such
pronouncements cannot be true. For looking into the same horoscopes, he must have
foretold the same future for Esau and Jacob,181 whereas the same future did not
turn out for them. He must therefore speak falsely. If he is to speak truly, then he
must read contrary predictions into the same horoscopes. But this would mean that
it was not by art, but by chance, that he would speak truly.
For thou, O Lord, most righteous ruler of the universe, dost work by a secret
impulse--whether those who inquire or those inquired of know it or not--so that the
inquirer may hear what, according to the secret merit of his soul, he ought to hear
from the deeps of thy righteous judgment. Therefore let no man say to thee, “What
is this?” or, “Why is that?” Let him not speak thus, for he is only a man.
CHAPTER VII
11. By now, O my Helper, thou hadst freed me from those fetters. But still I
inquired, “Whence is evil?”--and found no answer. But thou didst not allow me to be
carried away from the faith by these fluctuations of thought. I still believed both
that thou dost exist and that thy substance is immutable, and that thou dost care
for and wilt judge all men, and that in Christ, thy Son our Lord, and the Holy
Scriptures, which the authority of thy Catholic Church pressed on me, thou hast
planned the way of man’s salvation to that life which is to come after this death.
With these convictions safe and immovably settled in my mind, I eagerly
inquired, “Whence is evil?” What torments did my travailing heart then endure!
What sighs, O my God! Yet even then thy ears were open and I knew it not, and
when in stillness I sought earnestly, those silent contritions of my soul were loud
cries to thy mercy. No man knew, but thou knewest what I endured. How little of it
181Gen. 25:21 to 33:20.
could I express in words to the ears of my dearest friends! How could the whole
tumult of my soul, for which neither time nor speech was sufficient, come to them?
Yet the whole of it went into thy ears, all of which I bellowed out in the anguish of
my heart. My desire was before thee, and the light of my eyes was not with me; for
it was within and I was without. Nor was that light in any place; but I still kept
thinking only of things that are contained in a place, and could find among them no
place to rest in. They did not receive me in such a way that I could say, “It is
sufficient; it is well.” Nor did they allow me to turn back to where it might be well
enough with me. For I was higher than they, though lower than thou. Thou art my
true joy if I depend upon thee, and thou hadst subjected to me what thou didst
create lower than I. And this was the true mean and middle way of salvation for me,
to continue in thy image and by serving thee have dominion over the body. But
when I lifted myself proudly against thee, and “ran against the Lord, even against
his neck, with the thick bosses of my buckler,”182 even the lower things were placed
above me and pressed down on me, so that there was no respite or breathing space.
They thrust on my sight on every side, in crowds and masses, and when I tried to
think, the images of bodies obtruded themselves into my way back to thee, as if they
would say to me, “Where are you going, unworthy and unclean one?” And all these
had sprung out of my wound, for thou hadst humbled the haughty as one that is
wounded. By my swelling pride I was separated from thee, and my bloated cheeks
blinded my eyes.
CHAPTER VIII
12. But thou, O Lord, art forever the same, yet thou art not forever angry
with us, for thou hast compassion on our dust and ashes.183 It was pleasing in thy
sight to reform my deformity, and by inward stings thou didst disturb me so that I
was impatient until thou wert made clear to my inward sight. By the secret hand of
thy healing my swelling was lessened, the disordered and darkened eyesight of my
mind was from day to day made whole by the stinging salve of wholesome grief.
CHAPTER IX
13. And first of all, willing to show me how thou dost “resist the proud, but
give grace to the humble,”184 and how mercifully thou hast made known to men the
way of humility in that thy Word “was made flesh and dwelt among men,”185 thou
didst procure for me, through one inflated with the most monstrous pride, certain
books of the Platonists, translated from Greek into Latin.186 And therein I found,
not indeed in the same words, but to the selfsame effect, enforced by many and
various reasons that “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,
182Cf. Job 15:26 (Old Latin version).
183Cf. Ps. 103:9-14.
184James 4:6.
185Cf. John 1:14.
186It is not altogether clear as to which "books" and which "Platonists" are here referred to. The
succeeding analysis of "Platonism" does not resemble any single known text closely enough to allow
for identification. The most reasonable conjecture, as most authorities agree, is that the "books" here
mentioned were the Enneads of Plotinus, which Marius Victorinus (q.v. infra, Bk. VIII, Ch. II, 3-5)
had translated into Latin several years before; cf. M.P. Garvey, St. Augustine: Christian or NeoPlatonist (Milwaukee, 1939). There is also a fair probability that Augustine had acquired some
knowledge of the Didaskalikos of Albinus; cf. R.E. Witt, Albinus and the History of Middle Platonism
(Cambridge, 1937).
and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were
made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made.” That which
was made by him is “life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shined in
darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.” Furthermore, I read that the soul
of man, though it “bears witness to the light,” yet itself “is not the light; but the
Word of God, being God, is that true light that lights every man who comes into the
world.” And further, that “he was in the world, and the world was made by him, and
the world knew him not.”187 But that “he came unto his own, and his own received
him not. And as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of
God, even to them that believed on his name” 188--this I did not find there.
14. Similarly, I read there that God the Word was born “not of flesh nor of
blood, nor of the will of man, nor the will of the flesh, but of God.”189 But, that “the
Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us”190--I found this nowhere there. And I
discovered in those books, expressed in many and various ways, that “the Son was
in the form of God and thought it not robbery to be equal in God,”191 for he was
naturally of the same substance. But, that “he emptied himself and took upon
himself the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found
in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the
death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him” from the dead, “and
given him a name above every name; that at the name of Jesus every knee should
bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that
every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the
Father”192--this those books have not. I read further in them that before all times
and beyond all times, thy only Son remaineth unchangeably coeternal with thee,
and that of his fullness all souls receive that they may be blessed, and that by
participation in that wisdom which abides in them, they are renewed that they may
be wise. But, that “in due time, Christ died for the ungodly” and that thou “sparedst
not thy only Son, but deliveredst him up for us all”193--this is not there. “For thou
hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto
babes”194; that they “that labor and are heavy laden” might “come unto him and he
might refresh them” because he is “meek and lowly in heart.”195 “The meek will he
guide in judgment; and the meek will he teach his way; beholding our lowliness and
our trouble and forgiving all our sins.”196 But those who strut in the high boots of
what they deem to be superior knowledge will not hear Him who says, “Learn of me,
for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you shall find rest for your souls.”197 Thus,
though they know God, yet they do not glorify him as God, nor are they thankful.
Therefore, they “become vain in their imaginations; their foolish heart is darkened,
and professing themselves to be wise they become fools.”198
187Cf. this mixed quotation of John 1:1-10 with the Fifth Ennead and note Augustine's identification
of Logos, in the Fourth Gospel, with Nous in Plotinus.
188John 1:11, 12
189John 1:13.
190John 1:14.
191Phil. 2:6.
192Phil. 2:7-11.
193Rom. 5:6; 8:32.
194Luke 10:21.
195Cf. Matt. 11:28, 29.
196Cf. Ps. 25:9, 18.
197Matt. 11:29.
198Rom. 1:21, 22.
15. And, moreover, I also read there how “they changed the glory of thy
incorruptible nature into idols and various images--into an image made like
corruptible man and to birds and four-footed beasts, and creeping things”199:
namely, into that Egyptian food200 for which Esau lost his birthright; so that thy
first-born people worshiped the head of a four-footed beast instead of thee, turning
back in their hearts toward Egypt and prostrating thy image (their own soul) before
the image of an ox that eats grass. These things I found there, but I fed not on them.
For it pleased thee, O Lord, to take away the reproach of his minority from Jacob,
that the elder should serve the younger and thou mightest call the Gentiles, and I
had sought strenuously after that gold which thou didst allow thy people to take
from Egypt, since wherever it was it was thine.201 And thou saidst unto the
Athenians by the mouth of thy apostle that in thee “we live and move and have our
being,” as one of their own poets had said.202 And truly these books came from
there. But I did not set my mind on the idols of Egypt which they fashioned of gold,
“changing the truth of God into a lie and worshiping and serving the creature more
than the Creator.”203
CHAPTER X
16. And being admonished by these books to return into myself, I entered into
my inward soul, guided by thee. This I could do because thou wast my helper. And I
entered, and with the eye of my soul--such as it was--saw above the same eye of my
soul and above my mind the Immutable Light. It was not the common light, which
all flesh can see; nor was it simply a greater one of the same sort, as if the light of
day were to grow brighter and brighter, and flood all space. It was not like that
light, but different, yea, very different from all earthly light whatever. Nor was it
above my mind in the same way as oil is above water, or heaven above earth, but it
was higher, because it made me, and I was below it, because I was made by it. He
who knows the Truth knows that Light, and he who knows it knows eternity. Love
knows it, O Eternal Truth and True Love and Beloved Eternity! Thou art my God,
to whom I sigh both night and day. When I first knew thee, thou didst lift me up,
that I might see that there was something to be seen, though I was not yet fit to see
it. And thou didst beat back the weakness of my sight, shining forth upon me thy
dazzling beams of light, and I trembled with love and fear. I realized that I was far
away from thee in the land of unlikeness, as if I heard thy voice from on high: “I am
the food of strong men; grow and you shall feed on me; nor shall you change me, like
the food of your flesh into yourself, but you shall be changed into my likeness.” And
I understood that thou chastenest man for his iniquity, and makest my soul to be
eaten away as though by a spider.204 And I said, “Is Truth, therefore, nothing,
because it is not diffused through space--neither finite nor infinite?” And thou didst
cry to me from afar, “I am that I am.”205 And I heard this, as things are heard in the
199Rom. 1:23.
200An echo of Porphyry's De abstinentia ab esu animalium.
201The allegorical interpretation of the Israelites' despoiling the Egyptians (Ex. 12:35, 36) made it
refer to the liberty of Christian thinkers in appropriating whatever was good and true from the
pagan philosophers of the Greco-Roman world. This was a favorite theme of Clement of Alexandria
and Origen and was quite explicitly developed in Origen's Epistle to Gregory Thaumaturgus (ANF,
IX, pp. 295, 296); cf. Augustine, On Christian Doctrine, II, 41-42.
202Cf. Acts 17:28.
203Cf. Rom. 1:25.
204Cf. Ps. 39:11.
205Some MSS. add "immo vero" ("yea, verily"), but not the best ones; cf. De Labriolle, op. cit., I, p.
heart, and there was no room for doubt. I should have more readily doubted that I
am alive than that the Truth exists--the Truth which is “clearly seen, being
understood by the things that are made.”206
CHAPTER XI
17. And I viewed all the other things that are beneath thee, and I realized
that they are neither wholly real nor wholly unreal. They are real in so far as they
come from thee; but they are unreal in so far as they are not what thou art. For that
is truly real which remains immutable. It is good, then, for me to hold fast to God,
for if I do not remain in him, neither shall I abide in myself; but he, remaining in
himself, renews all things. And thou art the Lord my God, since thou standest in no
need of my goodness.
CHAPTER XII
18. And it was made clear to me that all things are good even if they are
corrupted. They could not be corrupted if they were supremely good; but unless they
were good they could not be corrupted. If they were supremely good, they would be
incorruptible; if they were not good at all, there would be nothing in them to be
corrupted. For corruption harms; but unless it could diminish goodness, it could not
harm. Either, then, corruption does not harm--which cannot be--or, as is certain, all
that is corrupted is thereby deprived of good. But if they are deprived of all good,
they will cease to be. For if they are at all and cannot be at all corrupted, they will
become better, because they will remain incorruptible. Now what can be more
monstrous than to maintain that by losing all good they have become better? If,
then, they are deprived of all good, they will cease to exist. So long as they are,
therefore, they are good. Therefore, whatsoever is, is good. Evil, then, the origin of
which I had been seeking, has no substance at all; for if it were a substance, it
would be good. For either it would be an incorruptible substance and so a supreme
good, or a corruptible substance, which could not be corrupted unless it were good. I
understood, therefore, and it was made clear to me that thou madest all things
good, nor is there any substance at all not made by thee. And because all that thou
madest is not equal, each by itself is good, and the sum of all of them is very good,
for our God made all things very good.207
CHAPTER XIII
19. To thee there is no such thing as evil, and even in thy whole creation
taken as a whole, there is not; because there is nothing from beyond it that can
burst in and destroy the order which thou hast appointed for it. But in the parts of
creation, some things, because they do not harmonize with others, are considered
evil. Yet those same things harmonize with others and are good, and in themselves
are good. And all these things which do not harmonize with each other still
harmonize with the inferior part of creation which we call the earth, having its own
162.
206Rom. 1:20.
207A locus classicus of the doctrine of the privative character of evil and the positive character of the
good. This is a fundamental premise in Augustine's metaphysics: it reappears in Bks. XII-XIII, in the
Enchiridion, and elsewhere (see note, infra, p. 343). This doctrine of the goodness of all creation is
taken up into the scholastic metaphysics; cf. Confessions, Bks. XII-XIII, and Thomas Aquinas,
Summa contra gentes, II: 45.
cloudy and windy sky of like nature with itself. Far be it from me, then, to say,
“These things should not be.” For if I could see nothing but these, I should indeed
desire something better--but still I ought to praise thee, if only for these created
things. For that thou art to be praised is shown from the fact that “earth, dragons,
and all deeps; fire, and hail, snow and vapors, stormy winds fulfilling thy word;
mountains, and all hills, fruitful trees, and all cedars; beasts and all cattle; creeping
things, and flying fowl; things of the earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of
the earth; both young men and maidens, old men and children,”208 praise thy name!
But seeing also that in heaven all thy angels praise thee, O God, praise thee in the
heights, “and all thy hosts, sun and moon, all stars and light, the heavens of
heavens, and the waters that are above the heavens,”209 praise thy name--seeing
this, I say, I no longer desire a better world, because my thought ranged over all,
and with a sounder judgment I reflected that the things above were better than
those below, yet that all creation together was better than the higher things alone.
CHAPTER XIV
20. There is no health in those who find fault with any part of thy creation; as
there was no health in me when I found fault with so many of thy works. And,
because my soul dared not be displeased with my God, it would not allow that the
things which displeased me were from thee. Hence it had wandered into the notion
of two substances, and could find no rest, but talked foolishly, And turning from
that error, it had then made for itself a god extended through infinite space; and it
thought this was thou and set it up in its heart, and it became once more the temple
of its own idol, an abomination to thee. But thou didst soothe my brain, though I
was unaware of it, and closed my eyes lest they should behold vanity; and thus I
ceased from preoccupation with self by a little and my madness was lulled to sleep;
and I awoke in thee, and beheld thee as the Infinite, but not in the way I had
thought--and this vision was not derived from the flesh.
CHAPTER XV
21. And I looked around at other things, and I saw that it was to thee that all
of them owed their being, and that they were all finite in thee; yet they are in thee
not as in a space, but because thou holdest all things in the hand of thy truth, and
because all things are true in so far as they are; and because falsehood is nothing
except the existence in thought of what does not exist in fact. And I saw that all
things harmonize, not only in their places but also in their seasons. And I saw that
thou, who alone art eternal, didst not begin to work after unnumbered periods of
time--because all ages, both those which are past and those which shall pass,
neither go nor come except through thy working and abiding.
CHAPTER XVI
22. And I saw and found it no marvel that bread which is distasteful to an
unhealthy palate is pleasant to a healthy one; or that the light, which is painful to
sore eyes, is a delight to sound ones. Thy righteousness displeases the wicked, and
they find even more fault with the viper and the little worm, which thou hast
created good, fitting in as they do with the inferior parts of creation. The wicked
208Ps. 148:7-12.
209Ps. 148:1-5.
themselves also fit in here, and proportionately more so as they become unlike thee-but they harmonize with the higher creation proportionately as they become like
thee. And I asked what wickedness was, and I found that it was no substance, but a
perversion of the will bent aside from thee, O God, the supreme substance, toward
these lower things, casting away its inmost treasure and becoming bloated with
external good.210
CHAPTER XVII
23. And I marveled that I now loved thee, and no fantasm in thy stead, and
yet I was not stable enough to enjoy my God steadily. Instead I was transported to
thee by thy beauty, and then presently torn away from thee by my own weight,
sinking with grief into these lower things. This weight was carnal habit. But thy
memory dwelt with me, and I never doubted in the least that there was One for me
to cleave to; but I was not yet ready to cleave to thee firmly. For the body which is
corrupted presses down the soul, and the earthly dwelling weighs down the mind,
which muses upon many things.211 My greatest certainty was that “the invisible
things of thine from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by
the things that are made, even thy eternal power and Godhead.”212 For when I
inquired how it was that I could appreciate the beauty of bodies, both celestial and
terrestrial; and what it was that supported me in making correct judgments about
things mutable; and when I concluded, “This ought to be thus; this ought not”--then
when I inquired how it was that I could make such judgments (since I did, in fact,
make them), I realized that I had found the unchangeable and true eternity of truth
above my changeable mind.
And thus by degrees I was led upward from bodies to the soul which perceives
them by means of the bodily senses, and from there on to the soul’s inward faculty,
to which the bodily senses report outward things--and this belongs even to the
capacities of the beasts--and thence on up to the reasoning power, to whose
judgment is referred the experience received from the bodily sense. And when this
power of reason within me also found that it was changeable, it raised itself up to its
own intellectual principle,213 and withdrew its thoughts from experience,
abstracting itself from the contradictory throng of fantasms in order to seek for that
light in which it was bathed. Then, without any doubting, it cried out that the
unchangeable was better than the changeable. From this it follows that the mind
somehow knew the unchangeable, for, unless it had known it in some fashion, it
could have had no sure ground for preferring it to the changeable. And thus with
the flash of a trembling glance, it arrived at that which is.214 And I saw thy
invisibility [invisibilia tua] understood by means of the things that are made. But I
210"The evil which overtakes us has its source in self-will, in the entry into the sphere of process and
in the primal assertion of the desire for self-ownership" (Plotinus, Enneads, V, 1:1).
211"We have gone weighed down from beneath; the vision is frustrated" (Enneads, VI, 9:4).
212Rom. 1:20.
213The Plotinian Nous.
214This is an astonishingly candid and plain account of a Plotinian ecstasy, the pilgrimage of the
soul from its absorption in things to its rapturous but momentary vision of the One; cf. especially the
Sixth Ennead, 9:3-11, for very close parallels in thought and echoes of language. This is one of two
ecstatic visions reported in the Confessions; the other is, of course, the last great moment with his
mother at Ostia (Bk. IX, Ch. X, 23-25). One comes before the "conversion" in the Milanese garden
(Bk. VIII, Ch. XII, 28-29); the other, after. They ought to be compared with particular interest in
their similarities as well as their significant differences. Cf. also K.E. Kirk, The Vision of God
(London, 1932), pp. 319-346.
was not able to sustain my gaze. My weakness was dashed back, and I lapsed again
into my accustomed ways, carrying along with me nothing but a loving memory of
my vision, and an appetite for what I had, as it were, smelled the odor of, but was
not yet able to eat.
CHAPTER XVIII
24. I sought, therefore, some way to acquire the strength sufficient to enjoy
thee; but I did not find it until I embraced that “Mediator between God and man,
the man Christ Jesus,”215 “who is over all, God blessed forever,”216 who came calling
and saying, “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” 217 and mingling with our fleshly
humanity the heavenly food I was unable to receive. For “the Word was made flesh”
in order that thy wisdom, by which thou didst create all things, might become milk
for our infancy. And, as yet, I was not humble enough to hold the humble Jesus; nor
did I understand what lesson his weakness was meant to teach us. For thy Word,
the eternal Truth, far exalted above even the higher parts of thy creation, lifts his
subjects up toward himself. But in this lower world, he built for himself a humble
habitation of our own clay, so that he might pull down from themselves and win
over to himself those whom he is to bring subject to him; lowering their pride and
heightening their love, to the end that they might go on no farther in selfconfidence--but rather should become weak, seeing at their feet the Deity made
weak by sharing our coats of skin--so that they might cast themselves, exhausted,
upon him and be uplifted by his rising.
CHAPTER XIX
25. But I thought otherwise. I saw in our Lord Christ only a man of eminent
wisdom to whom no other man could be compared--especially because he was
miraculously born of a virgin--sent to set us an example of despising worldly things
for the attainment of immortality, and thus exhibiting his divine care for us.
Because of this, I held that he had merited his great authority as leader. But
concerning the mystery contained in “the Word was made flesh,” I could not even
form a notion. From what I learned from what has been handed down to us in the
books about him--that he ate, drank, slept, walked, rejoiced in spirit, was sad, and
discoursed with his fellows--I realized that his flesh alone was not bound unto thy
Word, but also that there was a bond with the human soul and body. Everyone
knows this who knows the unchangeableness of thy Word, and this I knew by now,
as far as I was able, and I had no doubts at all about it. For at one time to move the
limbs by an act of will, at another time not; at one time to feel some emotion, at
another time not; at one time to speak intelligibly through verbal signs, at another,
not--these are all properties of a soul and mind subject to change. And if these
things were falsely written about him, all the rest would risk the imputation of
falsehood, and there would remain in those books no saving faith for the human
race.
Therefore, because they were written truthfully, I acknowledged a perfect
man to be in Christ--not the body of a man only, nor, in the body, an animal soul
without a rational one as well, but a true man. And this man I held to be superior to
all others, not only because he was a form of the Truth, but also because of the great
2151 Tim. 2:5.
216Rom. 9:5.
217John 14:6.
excellence and perfection of his human nature, due to his participation in wisdom.
Alypius, on the other hand, supposed the Catholics to believe that God was so
clothed with flesh that besides God and the flesh there was no soul in Christ, and he
did not think that a human mind was ascribed to him.218 And because he was fully
persuaded that the actions recorded of him could not have been performed except by
a living rational creature, he moved the more slowly toward Christian faith.219 But
when he later learned that this was the error of the Apollinarian heretics, he
rejoiced in the Catholic faith and accepted it. For myself, I must confess that it was
even later that I learned how in the sentence, “The Word was made flesh,” the
Catholic truth can be distinguished from the falsehood of Photinus. For the
refutation of heretics220 makes the tenets of thy Church and sound doctrine to stand
out boldly. “For there must also be heresies [factions] that those who are approved
may be made manifest among the weak.” 221
CHAPTER XX
26. By having thus read the books of the Platonists, and having been taught
by them to search for the incorporeal Truth, I saw how thy invisible things are
understood through the things that are made. And, even when I was thrown back, I
still sensed what it was that the dullness of my soul would not allow me to
contemplate. I was assured that thou wast, and wast infinite, though not diffused in
finite space or infinity; that thou truly art, who art ever the same, varying neither
in part nor motion; and that all things are from thee, as is proved by this sure cause
alone: that they exist.
Of all this I was convinced, yet I was too weak to enjoy thee. I chattered away
as if I were an expert; but if I had not sought thy Way in Christ our Saviour, my
knowledge would have turned out to be not instruction but destruction.222 For now
full of what was in fact my punishment, I had begun to desire to seem wise. I did
not mourn my ignorance, but rather was puffed up with knowledge. For where was
that love which builds upon the foundation of humility, which is Jesus Christ?223
Or, when would these books teach me this? I now believe that it was thy pleasure
that I should fall upon these books before I studied thy Scriptures, that it might be
impressed on my memory how I was affected by them; and then afterward, when I
was subdued by thy Scriptures and when my wounds were touched by thy healing
fingers, I might discern and distinguish what a difference there is between
presumption and confession--between those who saw where they were to go even if
they did not see the way, and the Way which leads, not only to the observing, but
also the inhabiting of the blessed country. For had I first been molded in thy Holy
Scriptures, and if thou hadst grown sweet to me through my familiar use of them,
and if then I had afterward fallen on those volumes, they might have pushed me off
the solid ground of godliness--or if I had stood firm in that wholesome disposition
which I had there acquired, I might have thought that wisdom could be attained by
218An interesting reminder that the Apollinarian heresy was condemned but not extinct.
219It is worth remembering that both Augustine and Alypius were catechumens and had presumably
been receiving doctrinal instruction in preparation for their eventual baptism and full membership
in the Catholic Church. That their ideas on the incarnation, at this stage, were in such confusion
raises an interesting problem.
220Cf. Augustine's The Christian Combat as an example of "the refutation of heretics."
221Cf. 1 Cor. 11:19.
222Non peritus, sed periturus essem.
223Cf. 1 Cor. 3:11f.
the study of those [Platonist] books alone.
CHAPTER XXI
27. With great eagerness, then, I fastened upon the venerable writings of thy
Spirit and principally upon the apostle Paul. I had thought that he sometimes
contradicted himself and that the text of his teaching did not agree with the
testimonies of the Law and the Prophets; but now all these doubts vanished away.
And I saw that those pure words had but one face, and I learned to rejoice with
trembling. So I began, and I found that whatever truth I had read [in the Platonists]
was here combined with the exaltation of thy grace. Thus, he who sees must not
glory as if he had not received, not only the things that he sees, but the very power
of sight--for what does he have that he has not received as a gift? By this he is not
only exhorted to see, but also to be cleansed, that he may grasp thee, who art ever
the same; and thus he who cannot see thee afar off may yet enter upon the road that
leads to reaching, seeing, and possessing thee. For although a man may “delight in
the law of God after the inward man,” what shall he do with that other “law in his
members which wars against the law of his mind, and brings him into captivity
under the law of sin, which is in his members”?224 Thou art righteous, O Lord; but
we have sinned and committed iniquities, and have done wickedly. Thy hand has
grown heavy upon us, and we are justly delivered over to that ancient sinner, the
lord of death. For he persuaded our wills to become like his will, by which he
remained not in thy truth. What shall “wretched man” do? “Who shall deliver him
from the body of this death,” 225 except thy grace through Jesus Christ our Lord;
whom thou hast begotten, coeternal with thyself, and didst create in the beginning
of thy ways226--in whom the prince of this world found nothing worthy of death, yet
he killed him--and so the handwriting which was all against us was blotted out?
The books of the Platonists tell nothing of this. Their pages do not contain the
expression of this kind of godliness--the tears of confession, thy sacrifice, a troubled
spirit, a broken and a contrite heart, the salvation of thy people, the espoused City,
the earnest of the Holy Spirit, the cup of our redemption. In them, no man sings:
“Shall not my soul be subject unto God, for from him comes my salvation? He is my
God and my salvation, my defender; I shall no more be moved.”227 In them, no one
hears him calling, “Come unto me all you who labor.” They scorn to learn of him
because he is “meek and lowly of heart”; for “thou hast hidden those things from the
wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.” For it is one thing to see the
land of peace from a wooded mountaintop: and fail to find the way thither--to
attempt impassable ways in vain, opposed and waylaid by fugitives and deserters
under their captain, the “lion” and “dragon”228; but it is quite another thing to keep
to the highway that leads thither, guarded by the hosts of the heavenly Emperor, on
which there are no deserters from the heavenly army to rob the passers-by, for they
224Rom. 7:22, 23.
225Rom. 7:24, 25.
226Cf. Prov. 8:22 and Col. 1:15. Augustine is here identifying the figure of Wisdom in Proverbs with
the figure of the Logos in the Prologue to the Fourth Gospel. In the Arian controversy both these
references to God's Wisdom and Word as "created" caused great difficulty for the orthodox, for the
Arians triumphantly appealed to them as proof that Jesus Christ was a "creature" of God. But
Augustine was a Chalcedonian before Chalcedon, and there is no doubt that he is here quoting
familiar Scripture and filling it with the interpretation achieved by the long struggle of the Church
to affirm the coeternity and consubstantiality of Jesus Christ and God the Father.
227Cf. Ps. 62:1, 2, 5, 6.
228Cf. Ps. 91:13.
shun it as a torment.229 These thoughts sank wondrously into my heart, when I
read that “least of thy apostles”230 and when I had considered all thy works and
trembled.
229A figure that compares the dangers of the solitary traveler in a bandit-infested land and the
safety of an imperial convoy on a main highway to the capital city.
230Cf. 1 Cor. 15:9.
BOOK EIGHT
Conversion to Christ. Augustine is deeply impressed by Simplicianus’ story of the
conversion to Christ of the famous orator and philosopher, Marius Victorinus. He is
stirred to emulate him, but finds himself still enchained by his incontinence and
preoccupation with worldly affairs. He is then visited by a court official, Ponticianus,
who tells him and Alypius the stories of the conversion of Anthony and also of two
imperial “secret service agents.” These stories throw him into a violent turmoil, in
which his divided will struggles against himself. He almost succeeds in making the
decision for continence, but is still held back. Finally, a child’s song, overheard by
chance, sends him to the Bible; a text from Paul resolves the crisis; the conversion is a
fact. Alypius also makes his decision, and the two inform the rejoicing Monica.
CHAPTER I
1. O my God, let me remember with gratitude and confess to thee thy mercies
toward me. Let my bones be bathed in thy love, and let them say: “Lord, who is like
unto thee?231 Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder, I will offer unto thee the
sacrifice of thanksgiving.”232 And how thou didst break them I will declare, and all
who worship thee shall say, when they hear these things: “Blessed be the Lord in
heaven and earth, great and wonderful is his name.”233
Thy words had stuck fast in my breast, and I was hedged round about by thee
on every side. Of thy eternal life I was now certain, although I had seen it “through
a glass darkly.” 234 And I had been relieved of all doubt that there is an incorruptible
substance and that it is the source of every other substance. Nor did I any longer
crave greater certainty about thee, but rather greater steadfastness in thee.
But as for my temporal life, everything was uncertain, and my heart had to
be purged of the old leaven. “The Way”--the Saviour himself--pleased me well, but as
yet I was reluctant to pass through the strait gate.
And thou didst put it into my mind, and it seemed good in my own sight, to go
to Simplicianus, who appeared to me a faithful servant of thine, and thy grace shone
forth in him. I had also been told that from his youth up he had lived in entire
devotion to thee. He was already an old man, and because of his great age, which he
had passed in such a zealous discipleship in thy way, he appeared to me likely to
have gained much wisdom--and, indeed, he had. From all his experience, I desired
him to tell me--setting before him all my agitations--which would be the most fitting
way for one who felt as I did to walk in thy way.
2. For I saw the Church full; and one man was going this way and another
that. Still, I could not be satisfied with the life I was living in the world. Now,
indeed, my passions had ceased to excite me as of old with hopes of honor and
wealth, and it was a grievous burden to go on in such servitude. For, compared with
thy sweetness and the beauty of thy house--which I loved--those things delighted me
no longer. But I was still tightly bound by the love of women; nor did the apostle
forbid me to marry, although he exhorted me to something better, wishing earnestly
that all men were as he himself was.
But I was weak and chose the easier way, and for this single reason my whole
231Ps. 35:10.
232Cf. Ps. 116:16, 17.
233Cf. Ps. 8:1.
2341 Cor. 13:12.
life was one of inner turbulence and listless indecision, because from so many
influences I was compelled--even though unwilling--to agree to a married life which
bound me hand and foot. I had heard from the mouth of Truth that “there are
eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven’s sake”235
but, said he, “He that is able to receive it, let him receive it.” Of a certainty, all men
are vain who do not have the knowledge of God, or have not been able, from the
good things that are seen, to find him who is good. But I was no longer fettered in
that vanity. I had surmounted it, and from the united testimony of thy whole
creation had found thee, our Creator, and thy Word--God with thee, and together
with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God--by whom thou hast created all things. There
is still another sort of wicked men, who “when they knew God, they glorified him
not as God, neither were thankful.”236 Into this also I had fallen, but thy right hand
held me up and bore me away, and thou didst place me where I might recover. For
thou hast said to men, “Behold the fear of the Lord, this is wisdom,” 237 and, “Be not
wise in your own eyes,”238 because “they that profess themselves to be wise become
fools.”239 But I had now found the goodly pearl; and I ought to have sold all that I
had and bought it--yet I hesitated.
CHAPTER II
3. I went, therefore, to Simplicianus, the spiritual father of Ambrose (then a
bishop), whom Ambrose truly loved as a father. I recounted to him all the mazes of
my wanderings, but when I mentioned to him that I had read certain books of the
Platonists which Victorinus--formerly professor of rhetoric at Rome, who died a
Christian, as I had been told--had translated into Latin, Simplicianus congratulated
me that I had not fallen upon the writings of other philosophers, which were full of
fallacies and deceit, “after the beggarly elements of this world,”240 whereas in the
Platonists, at every turn, the pathway led to belief in God and his Word.
Then, to encourage me to copy the humility of Christ, which is hidden from
the wise and revealed to babes, he told me about Victorinus himself, whom he had
known intimately at Rome. And I cannot refrain from repeating what he told me
about him. For it contains a glorious proof of thy grace, which ought to be confessed
to thee: how that old man, most learned, most skilled in all the liberal arts; who had
read, criticized, and explained so many of the writings of the philosophers; the
teacher of so many noble senators; one who, as a mark of his distinguished service
in office had both merited and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum--which men of
this world esteem a great honor--this man who, up to an advanced age, had been a
worshiper of idols, a communicant in the sacrilegious rites to which almost all the
nobility of Rome were wedded; and who had inspired the people with the love of
Osiris and
“The dog Anubis, and a medley crew
Of monster gods who ‘gainst Neptune stand in arms
‘Gainst Venus and Minerva, steel-clad Mars,”241
235Matt. 19:12.
236Rom. 1:21.
237Job 28:28.
238Prov. 3:7.
239Rom. 1:22.
240Col. 2:8.
241Virgil, Aeneid, VIII, 698.
whom Rome once conquered, and now worshiped; all of which old Victorinus had
with thundering eloquence defended for so many years--despite all this, he did not
blush to become a child of thy Christ, a babe at thy font, bowing his neck to the yoke
of humility and submitting his forehead to the ignominy of the cross.
4. O Lord, Lord, “who didst bow the heavens and didst descend, who didst
touch the mountains and they smoked,”242 by what means didst thou find thy way
into that breast? He used to read the Holy Scriptures, as Simplicianus said, and
thought out and studied all the Christian writings most studiously. He said to
Simplicianus--not openly but secretly as a friend--“You must know that I am a
Christian.” To which Simplicianus replied, “I shall not believe it, nor shall I count
you among the Christians, until I see you in the Church of Christ.” Victorinus then
asked, with mild mockery, “Is it then the walls that make Christians?” Thus he
often would affirm that he was already a Christian, and as often Simplicianus made
the same answer; and just as often his jest about the walls was repeated. He was
fearful of offending his friends, proud demon worshipers, from the height of whose
Babylonian dignity, as from the tops of the cedars of Lebanon which the Lord had
not yet broken down, he feared that a storm of enmity would descend upon him.
But he steadily gained strength from reading and inquiry, and came to fear
lest he should be denied by Christ before the holy angels if he now was afraid to
confess him before men. Thus he came to appear to himself guilty of a great fault, in
being ashamed of the sacraments of the humility of thy Word, when he was not
ashamed of the sacrilegious rites of those proud demons, whose pride he had
imitated and whose rites he had shared. From this he became bold-faced against
vanity and shamefaced toward the truth. Thus, suddenly and unexpectedly, he said
to Simplicianus--as he himself told me--“Let us go to the church; I wish to become a
Christian.” Simplicianus went with him, scarcely able to contain himself for joy. He
was admitted to the first sacraments of instruction, and not long afterward gave in
his name that he might receive the baptism of regeneration. At this Rome marveled
and the Church rejoiced. The proud saw and were enraged; they gnashed their teeth
and melted away! But the Lord God was thy servant’s hope and he paid no attention
to their vanity and lying madness.
5. Finally, when the hour arrived for him to make a public profession of his
faith--which at Rome those who are about to enter into thy grace make from a
platform in the full sight of the faithful people, in a set form of words learned by
heart--the presbyters offered Victorinus the chance to make his profession more
privately, for this was the custom for some who were likely to be afraid through
bashfulness. But Victorinus chose rather to profess his salvation in the presence of
the holy congregation. For there was no salvation in the rhetoric which he taught:
yet he had professed that openly. Why, then, should he shrink from naming thy
Word before the sheep of thy flock, when he had not shrunk from uttering his own
words before the mad multitude?
So, then, when he ascended the platform to make his profession, everyone, as
they recognized him, whispered his name one to the other, in tones of jubilation.
Who was there among them that did not know him? And a low murmur ran through
the mouths of all the rejoicing multitude: “Victorinus! Victorinus!” There was a
sudden burst of exaltation at the sight of him, and suddenly they were hushed that
they might hear him. He pronounced the true faith with an excellent boldness, and
all desired to take him to their very heart--indeed, by their love and joy they did
take him to their heart. And they received him with loving and joyful hands.
242Ps. 144:5.
CHAPTER III
6. O good God, what happens in a man to make him rejoice more at the
salvation of a soul that has been despaired of and then delivered from greater
danger than over one who has never lost hope, or never been in such imminent
danger? For thou also, O most merciful Father, “dost rejoice more over one that
repents than over ninety and nine just persons that need no repentance.”243 And we
listen with much delight whenever we hear how the lost sheep is brought home
again on the shepherd’s shoulders while the angels rejoice; or when the piece of
money is restored to its place in the treasury and the neighbors rejoice with the
woman who found it.244 And the joy of the solemn festival of thy house constrains us
to tears when it is read in thy house: about the younger son who “was dead and is
alive again, was lost and is found.” For it is thou who rejoicest both in us and in thy
angels, who are holy through holy love. For thou art ever the same because thou
knowest unchangeably all things which remain neither the same nor forever.
7. What, then, happens in the soul when it takes more delight at finding or
having restored to it the things it loves than if it had always possessed them?
Indeed, many other things bear witness that this is so--all things are full of
witnesses, crying out, “So it is.” The commander triumphs in victory; yet he could
not have conquered if he had not fought; and the greater the peril of the battle, the
more the joy of the triumph. The storm tosses the voyagers, threatens shipwreck,
and everyone turns pale in the presence of death. Then the sky and sea grow calm,
and they rejoice as much as they had feared. A loved one is sick and his pulse
indicates danger; all who desire his safety are themselves sick at heart; he recovers,
though not able as yet to walk with his former strength; and there is more joy now
than there was before when he walked sound and strong. Indeed, the very pleasures
of human life--not only those which rush upon us unexpectedly and involuntarily,
but also those which are voluntary and planned--men obtain by difficulties. There is
no pleasure in caring and drinking unless the pains of hunger and thirst have
preceded. Drunkards even eat certain salt meats in order to create a painful thirst-and when the drink allays this, it causes pleasure. It is also the custom that the
affianced bride should not be immediately given in marriage so that the husband
may not esteem her any less, whom as his betrothed he longed for.
8. This can be seen in the case of base and dishonorable pleasure. But it is
also apparent in pleasures that are permitted and lawful: in the sincerity of honest
friendship; and in him who was dead and lived again, who had been lost and was
found. The greater joy is everywhere preceded by the greater pain. What does this
mean, O Lord my God, when thou art an everlasting joy to thyself, and some
creatures about thee are ever rejoicing in thee? What does it mean that this portion
of creation thus ebbs and flows, alternately in want and satiety? Is this their mode
of being and is this all thou hast allotted to them: that, from the highest heaven to
the lowest earth, from the beginning of the world to the end, from the angels to the
worm, from the first movement to the last, thou wast assigning to all their proper
places and their proper seasons--to all the kinds of good things and to all thy just
works? Alas, how high thou art in the highest and how deep in the deepest! Thou
never departest from us, and yet only with difficulty do we return to thee.
CHAPTER IV
243Luke 15:4.
244Cf. Luke, ch. 15.
9. Go on, O Lord, and act: stir us up and call us back; inflame us and draw us
to thee; stir us up and grow sweet to us; let us now love thee, let us run to thee. Are
there not many men who, out of a deeper pit of darkness than that of Victorinus,
return to thee--who draw near to thee and are illuminated by that light which gives
those who receive it power from thee to become thy sons? But if they are less wellknown, even those who know them rejoice less for them. For when many rejoice
together the joy of each one is fuller, in that they warm one another, catch fire from
each other; moreover, those who are well-known influence many toward salvation
and take the lead with many to follow them. Therefore, even those who took the way
before them rejoice over them greatly, because they do not rejoice over them alone.
But it ought never to be that in thy tabernacle the persons of the rich should be
welcome before the poor, or the nobly born before the rest--since “thou hast rather
chosen the weak things of the world to confound the strong; and hast chosen the
base things of the world and things that are despised, and the things that are not,
in order to bring to nought the things that are.”245 It was even “the least of the
apostles” by whose tongue thou didst sound forth these words. And when Paulus the
proconsul had his pride overcome by the onslaught of the apostle and he was made
to pass under the easy yoke of thy Christ and became an officer of the great King, he
also desired to be called Paul instead of Saul, his former name, in testimony to such
a great victory.246 For the enemy is more overcome in one on whom he has a greater
hold, and whom he has hold of more completely. But the proud he controls more
readily through their concern about their rank and, through them, he controls more
by means of their influence. The more, therefore, the world prized the heart of
Victorinus (which the devil had held in an impregnable stronghold) and the tongue
of Victorinus (that sharp, strong weapon with which the devil had slain so many),
all the more exultingly should Thy sons rejoice because our King hath bound the
strong man, and they saw his vessels taken from him and cleansed, and made fit for
thy honor and “profitable to the Lord for every good work.”247
CHAPTER V
10. Now when this man of thine, Simplicianus, told me the story of
Victorinus, I was eager to imitate him. Indeed, this was Simplicianus’ purpose in
telling it to me. But when he went on to tell how, in the reign of the Emperor Julian,
there was a law passed by which Christians were forbidden to teach literature and
rhetoric; and how Victorinus, in ready obedience to the law, chose to abandon his
“school of words” rather than thy Word, by which thou makest eloquent the tongues
of the dumb--he appeared to me not so much brave as happy, because he had found
a reason for giving his time wholly to thee. For this was what I was longing to do;
but as yet I was bound by the iron chain of my own will. The enemy held fast my
will, and had made of it a chain, and had bound me tight with it. For out of the
perverse will came lust, and the service of lust ended in habit, and habit, not
resisted, became necessity. By these links, as it were, forged together--which is why
I called it “a chain”--a hard bondage held me in slavery. But that new will which
had begun to spring up in me freely to worship thee and to enjoy thee, O my God,
the only certain Joy, was not able as yet to overcome my former willfulness, made
strong by long indulgence. Thus my two wills--the old and the new, the carnal and
2451 Cor. 1:27.
246A garbled reference to the story of the conversion of Sergius Paulus, proconsul of Cyprus, in Acts
13:4-12.
2472 Tim. 2:21.
the spiritual--were in conflict within me; and by their discord they tore my soul
apart.
11. Thus I came to understand from my own experience what I had read, how
“the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh.”248 I truly lusted
both ways, yet more in that which I approved in myself than in that which I
disapproved in myself. For in the latter it was not now really I that was involved,
because here I was rather an unwilling sufferer than a willing actor. And yet it was
through me that habit had become an armed enemy against me, because I had
willingly come to be what I unwillingly found myself to be.
Who, then, can with any justice speak against it, when just punishment
follows the sinner? I had now no longer my accustomed excuse that, as yet, I
hesitated to forsake the world and serve thee because my perception of the truth
was uncertain. For now it was certain. But, still bound to the earth, I refused to be
thy soldier; and was as much afraid of being freed from all entanglements as we
ought to fear to be entangled.
12. Thus with the baggage of the world I was sweetly burdened, as one in
slumber, and my musings on thee were like the efforts of those who desire to awake,
but who are still overpowered with drowsiness and fall back into deep slumber. And
as no one wishes to sleep forever (for all men rightly count waking better)--yet a
man will usually defer shaking off his drowsiness when there is a heavy lethargy in
his limbs; and he is glad to sleep on even when his reason disapproves, and the hour
for rising has struck--so was I assured that it was much better for me to give myself
up to thy love than to go on yielding myself to my own lust. Thy love satisfied and
vanquished me; my lust pleased and fettered me.249 I had no answer to thy calling
to me, “Awake, you who sleep, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you
light.”250 On all sides, thou didst show me that thy words are true, and I, convicted
by the truth, had nothing at all to reply but the drawling and drowsy words:
“Presently; see, presently. Leave me alone a little while.” But “presently, presently,”
had no present; and my “leave me alone a little while” went on for a long while. In
vain did I “delight in thy law in the inner man” while “another law in my members
warred against the law of my mind and brought me into captivity to the law of sin
which is in my members.” For the law of sin is the tyranny of habit, by which the
mind is drawn and held, even against its will. Yet it deserves to be so held because
it so willingly falls into the habit. “O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me
from the body of this death” but thy grace alone, through Jesus Christ our Lord?251
CHAPTER VI
13. And now I will tell and confess unto thy name, O Lord, my helper and my
redeemer, how thou didst deliver me from the chain of sexual desire by which I was
so tightly held, and from the slavery of worldly business.252 With increasing anxiety
I was going about my usual affairs, and daily sighing to thee. I attended thy church
as frequently as my business, under the burden of which I groaned, left me free to
248Gal. 5:17.
249The text here is a typical example of Augustine's love of wordplay and assonance, as a conscious
literary device: tuae caritati me dedere quam meae cupiditati cedere; sed illud placebat et vincebat,
hoc libebat et vinciebat.
250Eph. 5:14.
251Rom. 7:22-25.
252The last obstacles that remained. His intellectual difficulties had been cleared away and the
intention to become a Christian had become strong. But incontinence and immersion in his career
were too firmly fixed in habit to be overcome by an act of conscious resolution.
do so. Alypius was with me, disengaged at last from his legal post, after a third term
as assessor, and now waiting for private clients to whom he might sell his legal
advice as I sold the power of speaking (as if it could be supplied by teaching). But
Nebridius had consented, for the sake of our friendship, to teach under Verecundus-a citizen of Milan and professor of grammar, and a very intimate friend of us all-who ardently desired, and by right of friendship demanded from us, the faithful aid
he greatly needed. Nebridius was not drawn to this by any desire of gain--for he
could have made much more out of his learning had he been so inclined--but as he
was a most sweet and kindly friend, he was unwilling, out of respect for the duties
of friendship, to slight our request. But in this he acted very discreetly, taking care
not to become known to those persons who had great reputations in the world. Thus
he avoided all distractions of mind, and reserved as many hours as possible to
pursue or read or listen to discussions about wisdom.
14. On a certain day, then, when Nebridius was away--for some reason I
cannot remember--there came to visit Alypius and me at our house one Ponticianus,
a fellow countryman of ours from Africa, who held high office in the emperor’s court.
What he wanted with us I do not know; but we sat down to talk together, and it
chanced that he noticed a book on a game table before us. He took it up, opened it,
and, contrary to his expectation, found it to be the apostle Paul, for he imagined
that it was one of my wearisome rhetoric textbooks. At this, he looked up at me with
a smile and expressed his delight and wonder that he had so unexpectedly found
this book and only this one, lying before my eyes; for he was indeed a Christian and
a faithful one at that, and often he prostrated himself before thee, our God, in the
church in constant daily prayer. When I had told him that I had given much
attention to these writings, a conversation followed in which he spoke of Anthony,
the Egyptian monk, whose name was in high repute among thy servants, although
up to that time not familiar to me. When he learned this, he lingered on the topic,
giving us an account of this eminent man, and marveling at our ignorance. We in
turn were amazed to hear of thy wonderful works so fully manifested in recent
times--almost in our own--occurring in the true faith and the Catholic Church. We
all wondered--we, that these things were so great, and he, that we had never heard
of them.
15. From this, his conversation turned to the multitudes in the monasteries
and their manners so fragrant to thee, and to the teeming solitudes of the
wilderness, of which we knew nothing at all. There was even a monastery at Milan,
outside the city’s walls, full of good brothers under the fostering care of Ambrose-and we were ignorant of it. He went on with his story, and we listened intently and
in silence. He then told us how, on a certain afternoon, at Trier,253 when the
emperor was occupied watching the gladiatorial games, he and three comrades went
out for a walk in the gardens close to the city walls. There, as they chanced to walk
two by two, one strolled away with him, while the other two went on by themselves.
As they rambled, these first two came upon a certain cottage where lived some of
thy servants, some of the “poor in spirit” (“of such is the Kingdom of Heaven”),
where they found the book in which was written the life of Anthony! One of them
began to read it, to marvel and to be inflamed by it. While reading, he meditated on
embracing just such a life, giving up his worldly employment to seek thee alone.
These two belonged to the group of officials called “secret service agents.”254 Then,
253Trèves, an important imperial town on the Moselle; the emperor referred to here was probably
Gratian. Cf. E.A. Freeman, "Augusta Trevororum," in the British Quarterly Review (1875), 62, pp. 145.
254Agentes in rebus, government agents whose duties ranged from postal inspection and tax
suddenly being overwhelmed with a holy love and a sober shame and as if in anger
with himself, he fixed his eyes on his friend, exclaiming: “Tell me, I beg you, what
goal are we seeking in all these toils of ours? What is it that we desire? What is our
motive in public service? Can our hopes in the court rise higher than to be ‘friends of
the emperor’255? But how frail, how beset with peril, is that pride! Through what
dangers must we climb to a greater danger? And when shall we succeed? But if I
chose to become a friend of God, see, I can become one now.” Thus he spoke, and in
the pangs of the travail of the new life he turned his eyes again onto the page and
continued reading; he was inwardly changed, as thou didst see, and the world
dropped away from his mind, as soon became plain to others. For as he read with a
heart like a stormy sea, more than once he groaned. Finally he saw the better
course, and resolved on it. Then, having become thy servant, he said to his friend:
“Now I have broken loose from those hopes we had, and I am determined to serve
God; and I enter into that service from this hour in this place. If you are reluctant to
imitate me, do not oppose me.” The other replied that he would continue bound in
his friendship, to share in so great a service for so great a prize. So both became
thine, and began to “build a tower”, counting the cost--namely, of forsaking all that
they had and following thee.256 Shortly after, Ponticianus and his companion, who
had walked with him in the other part of the garden, came in search of them to the
same place, and having found them reminded them to return, as the day was
declining. But the first two, making known to Ponticianus their resolution and
purpose, and how a resolve had sprung up and become confirmed in them, entreated
them not to take it ill if they refused to join themselves with them. But Ponticianus
and his friend, although not changed from their former course, did nevertheless (as
he told us) bewail themselves and congratulated their friends on their godliness,
recommending themselves to their prayers. And with hearts inclining again toward
earthly things, they returned to the palace. But the other two, setting their
affections on heavenly things, remained in the cottage. Both of them had affianced
brides who, when they heard of this, likewise dedicated their virginity to thee.
CHAPTER VII
16. Such was the story Ponticianus told. But while he was speaking, thou, O
Lord, turned me toward myself, taking me from behind my back, where I had put
myself while unwilling to exercise self-scrutiny. And now thou didst set me face to
face with myself, that I might see how ugly I was, and how crooked and sordid,
bespotted and ulcerous. And I looked and I loathed myself; but whither to fly from
myself I could not discover. And if I sought to turn my gaze away from myself, he
would continue his narrative, and thou wouldst oppose me to myself and thrust me
before my own eyes that I might discover my iniquity and hate it. I had known it,
but acted as though I knew it not--I winked at it and forgot it.
17. But now, the more ardently I loved those whose wholesome affections I
heard reported--that they had given themselves up wholly to thee to be cured--the
more did I abhor myself when compared with them. For many of my years--perhaps
twelve--had passed away since my nineteenth, when, upon the reading of Cicero’s
Hortensius, I was roused to a desire for wisdom. And here I was, still postponing the
collection to espionage and secret police work. They were ubiquitous and generally dreaded by the
populace; cf. J.S. Reid, "Reorganization of the Empire," in Cambridge Medieval History, Vol. I, pp.
36-38.
255The inner circle of imperial advisers; usually rather informally appointed and usually with
precarious tenure.
256Cf. Luke 14:28-33.
abandonment of this world’s happiness to devote myself to the search. For not just
the finding alone, but also the bare search for it, ought to have been preferred above
the treasures and kingdoms of this world; better than all bodily pleasures, though
they were to be had for the taking. But, wretched youth that I was--supremely
wretched even in the very outset of my youth--I had entreated chastity of thee and
had prayed, “Grant me chastity and continence, but not yet.” For I was afraid lest
thou shouldst hear me too soon, and too soon cure me of my disease of lust which I
desired to have satisfied rather than extinguished. And I had wandered through
perverse ways of godless superstition--not really sure of it, either, but preferring it
to the other, which I did not seek in piety, but opposed in malice.
18. And I had thought that I delayed from day to day in rejecting those
worldly hopes and following thee alone because there did not appear anything
certain by which I could direct my course. And now the day had arrived in which I
was laid bare to myself and my conscience was to chide me: “Where are you, O my
tongue? You said indeed that you were not willing to cast off the baggage of vanity
for uncertain truth. But behold now it is certain, and still that burden oppresses
you. At the same time those who have not worn themselves out with searching for it
as you have, nor spent ten years and more in thinking about it, have had their
shoulders unburdened and have received wings to fly away.” Thus was I inwardly
confused, and mightily confounded with a horrible shame, while Ponticianus went
ahead speaking such things. And when he had finished his story and the business
he came for, he went his way. And then what did I not say to myself, within myself?
With what scourges of rebuke did I not lash my soul to make it follow me, as I was
struggling to go after thee? Yet it drew back. It refused. It would not make an effort.
All its arguments were exhausted and confuted. Yet it resisted in sullen disquiet,
fearing the cutting off of that habit by which it was being wasted to death, as if that
were death itself.
CHAPTER VIII
19. Then, as this vehement quarrel, which I waged with my soul in the
chamber of my heart, was raging inside my inner dwelling, agitated both in mind
and countenance, I seized upon Alypius and exclaimed: “What is the matter with
us? What is this? What did you hear? The uninstructed start up and take heaven,
and we--with all our learning but so little heart--see where we wallow in flesh and
blood! Because others have gone before us, are we ashamed to follow, and not rather
ashamed at our not following?” I scarcely knew what I said, and in my excitement I
flung away from him, while he gazed at me in silent astonishment. For I did not
sound like myself: my face, eyes, color, tone expressed my meaning more clearly
than my words.
There was a little garden belonging to our lodging, of which we had the use-as of the whole house--for the master, our landlord, did not live there. The tempest
in my breast hurried me out into this garden, where no one might interrupt the
fiery struggle in which I was engaged with myself, until it came to the outcome that
thou knewest though I did not. But I was mad for health, and dying for life;
knowing what evil thing I was, but not knowing what good thing I was so shortly to
become.
I fled into the garden, with Alypius following step by step; for I had no secret
in which he did not share, and how could he leave me in such distress? We sat
down, as far from the house as possible. I was greatly disturbed in spirit, angry at
myself with a turbulent indignation because I had not entered thy will and
covenant, O my God, while all my bones cried out to me to enter, extolling it to the
skies. The way therein is not by ships or chariots or feet--indeed it was not as far as
I had come from the house to the place where we were seated. For to go along that
road and indeed to reach the goal is nothing else but the will to go. But it must be a
strong and single will, not staggering and swaying about this way and that--a
changeable, twisting, fluctuating will, wrestling with itself while one part falls as
another rises.
20. Finally, in the very fever of my indecision, I made many motions with my
body; like men do when they will to act but cannot, either because they do not have
the limbs or because their limbs are bound or weakened by disease, or incapacitated
in some other way. Thus if I tore my hair, struck my forehead, or, entwining my
fingers, clasped my knee, these I did because I willed it. But I might have willed it
and still not have done it, if the nerves had not obeyed my will. Many things then I
did, in which the will and power to do were not the same. Yet I did not do that one
thing which seemed to me infinitely more desirable, which before long I should have
power to will because shortly when I willed, I would will with a single will. For in
this, the power of willing is the power of doing; and as yet I could not do it. Thus my
body more readily obeyed the slightest wish of the soul in moving its limbs at the
order of my mind than my soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will alone its great
resolve.
CHAPTER IX
21. How can there be such a strange anomaly? And why is it? Let thy mercy
shine on me, that I may inquire and find an answer, amid the dark labyrinth of
human punishment and in the darkest contritions of the sons of Adam. Whence
such an anomaly? And why should it be? The mind commands the body, and the
body obeys. The mind commands itself and is resisted. The mind commands the
hand to be moved and there is such readiness that the command is scarcely
distinguished from the obedience in act. Yet the mind is mind, and the hand is body.
The mind commands the mind to will, and yet though it be itself it does not obey
itself. Whence this strange anomaly and why should it be? I repeat: The will
commands itself to will, and could not give the command unless it wills; yet what is
commanded is not done. But actually the will does not will entirely; therefore it does
not command entirely. For as far as it wills, it commands. And as far as it does not
will, the thing commanded is not done. For the will commands that there be an act
of will--not another, but itself. But it does not command entirely. Therefore, what is
commanded does not happen; for if the will were whole and entire, it would not even
command it to be, because it would already be. It is, therefore, no strange anomaly
partly to will and partly to be unwilling. This is actually an infirmity of mind, which
cannot wholly rise, while pressed down by habit, even though it is supported by the
truth. And so there are two wills, because one of them is not whole, and what is
present in this one is lacking in the other.
CHAPTER X
22. Let them perish from thy presence, O God, as vain talkers, and deceivers
of the soul perish, who, when they observe that there are two wills in the act of
deliberation, go on to affirm that there are two kinds of minds in us: one good, the
other evil. They are indeed themselves evil when they hold these evil opinions--and
they shall become good only when they come to hold the truth and consent to the
truth that thy apostle may say to them: “You were formerly in darkness, but now
are you in the light in the Lord.” 257 But they desired to be light, not “in the Lord,”
but in themselves. They conceived the nature of the soul to be the same as what God
is, and thus have become a thicker darkness than they were; for in their dread
arrogance they have gone farther away from thee, from thee “the true Light, that
lights every man that comes into the world.” Mark what you say and blush for
shame; draw near to him and be enlightened, and your faces shall not be
ashamed.258
While I was deliberating whether I would serve the Lord my God now, as I
had long purposed to do, it was I who willed and it was also I who was unwilling. In
either case, it was I. I neither willed with my whole will nor was I wholly unwilling.
And so I was at war with myself and torn apart by myself. And this strife was
against my will; yet it did not show the presence of another mind, but the
punishment of my own. Thus it was no more I who did it, but the sin that dwelt in
me--the punishment of a sin freely committed by Adam, and I was a son of Adam.
23. For if there are as many opposing natures as there are opposing wills,
there will not be two but many more. If any man is trying to decide whether he
should go to their conventicle or to the theater, the Manicheans at once cry out,
“See, here are two natures--one good, drawing this way, another bad, drawing back
that way; for how else can you explain this indecision between conflicting wills?”
But I reply that both impulses are bad--that which draws to them and that which
draws back to the theater. But they do not believe that the will which draws to them
can be anything but good. Suppose, then, that one of us should try to decide, and
through the conflict of his two wills should waver whether he should go to the
theater or to our Church. Would not those also waver about the answer here? For
either they must confess, which they are unwilling to do, that the will that leads to
our church is as good as that which carries their own adherents and those
captivated by their mysteries; or else they must imagine that there are two evil
natures and two evil minds in one man, both at war with each other, and then it
will not be true what they say, that there is one good and another bad. Else they
must be converted to the truth, and no longer deny that when anyone deliberates
there is one soul fluctuating between conflicting wills.
24. Let them no longer maintain that when they perceive two wills to be
contending with each other in the same man the contest is between two opposing
minds, of two opposing substances, from two opposing principles, the one good and
the other bad. Thus, O true God, thou dost reprove and confute and convict them.
For both wills may be bad: as when a man tries to decide whether he should kill a
man by poison or by the sword; whether he should take possession of this field or
that one belonging to someone else, when he cannot get both; whether he should
squander his money to buy pleasure or hold onto his money through the motive of
covetousness; whether he should go to the circus or to the theater, if both are open
on the same day; or, whether he should take a third course, open at the same time,
and rob another man’s house; or, a fourth option, whether he should commit
adultery, if he has the opportunity--all these things concurring in the same space of
time and all being equally longed for, although impossible to do at one time. For the
mind is pulled four ways by four antagonistic wills--or even more, in view of the vast
range of human desires--but even the Manicheans do not affirm that there are these
many different substances. The same principle applies as in the action of good wills.
For I ask them, “Is it a good thing to have delight in reading the apostle, or is it a
good thing to delight in a sober psalm, or is it a good thing to discourse on the
257Eph. 5:8.
258Cf. Ps. 34:5.
gospel?” To each of these, they will answer, “It is good.” But what, then, if all delight
us equally and all at the same time? Do not different wills distract the mind when a
man is trying to decide what he should choose? Yet they are all good, and are at
variance with each other until one is chosen. When this is done the whole united
will may go forward on a single track instead of remaining as it was before, divided
in many ways. So also, when eternity attracts us from above, and the pleasure of
earthly delight pulls us down from below, the soul does not will either the one or the
other with all its force, but still it is the same soul that does not will this or that
with a united will, and is therefore pulled apart with grievous perplexities, because
for truth’s sake it prefers this, but for custom’s sake it does not lay that aside.
CHAPTER XI
25. Thus I was sick and tormented, reproaching myself more bitterly than
ever, rolling and writhing in my chain till it should be utterly broken. By now I was
held but slightly, but still was held. And thou, O Lord, didst press upon me in my
inmost heart with a severe mercy, redoubling the lashes of fear and shame; lest I
should again give way and that same slender remaining tie not be broken off, but
recover strength and enchain me yet more securely.
I kept saying to myself, “See, let it be done now; let it be done now.” And as I
said this I all but came to a firm decision. I all but did it--yet I did not quite. Still I
did not fall back to my old condition, but stood aside for a moment and drew breath.
And I tried again, and lacked only a very little of reaching the resolve--and then
somewhat less, and then all but touched and grasped it. Yet I still did not quite
reach or touch or grasp the goal, because I hesitated to die to death and to live to
life. And the worse way, to which I was habituated, was stronger in me than the
better, which I had not tried. And up to the very moment in which I was to become
another man, the nearer the moment approached, the greater horror did it strike in
me. But it did not strike me back, nor turn me aside, but held me in suspense.
26. It was, in fact, my old mistresses, trifles of trifles and vanities of vanities,
who still enthralled me. They tugged at my fleshly garments and softly whispered:
“Are you going to part with us? And from that moment will we never be with you
any more? And from that moment will not this and that be forbidden you forever?”
What were they suggesting to me in those words “this or that”? What is it they
suggested, O my God? Let thy mercy guard the soul of thy servant from the vileness
and the shame they did suggest! And now I scarcely heard them, for they were not
openly showing themselves and opposing me face to face; but muttering, as it were,
behind my back; and furtively plucking at me as I was leaving, trying to make me
look back at them. Still they delayed me, so that I hesitated to break loose and
shake myself free of them and leap over to the place to which I was being called--for
unruly habit kept saying to me, “Do you think you can live without them?”
27. But now it said this very faintly; for in the direction I had set my face, and
yet toward which I still trembled to go, the chaste dignity of continence appeared to
me--cheerful but not wanton, modestly alluring me to come and doubt nothing,
extending her holy hands, full of a multitude of good examples--to receive and
embrace me. There were there so many young men and maidens, a multitude of
youth and every age, grave widows and ancient virgins; and continence herself in
their midst: not barren, but a fruitful mother of children--her joys--by thee, O Lord,
her husband. And she smiled on me with a challenging smile as if to say: “Can you
not do what these young men and maidens can? Or can any of them do it of
themselves, and not rather in the Lord their God? The Lord their God gave me to
them. Why do you stand in your own strength, and so stand not? Cast yourself on
him; fear not. He will not flinch and you will not fall. Cast yourself on him without
fear, for he will receive and heal you.” And I blushed violently, for I still heard the
muttering of those “trifles” and hung suspended. Again she seemed to speak: “Stop
your ears against those unclean members of yours, that they may be mortified. They
tell you of delights, but not according to the law of the Lord thy God.” This struggle
raging in my heart was nothing but the contest of self against self. And Alypius kept
close beside me, and awaited in silence the outcome of my extraordinary agitation.
CHAPTER XII
28. Now when deep reflection had drawn up out of the secret depths of my
soul all my misery and had heaped it up before the sight of my heart, there arose a
mighty storm, accompanied by a mighty rain of tears. That I might give way fully to
my tears and lamentations, I stole away from Alypius, for it seemed to me that
solitude was more appropriate for the business of weeping. I went far enough away
that I could feel that even his presence was no restraint upon me. This was the way
I felt at the time, and he realized it. I suppose I had said something before I started
up and he noticed that the sound of my voice was choked with weeping. And so he
stayed alone, where we had been sitting together, greatly astonished. I flung myself
down under a fig tree--how I know not--and gave free course to my tears. The
streams of my eyes gushed out an acceptable sacrifice to thee. And, not indeed in
these words, but to this effect, I cried to thee: “And thou, O Lord, how long? How
long, O Lord? Wilt thou be angry forever? Oh, remember not against us our former
iniquities.”259 For I felt that I was still enthralled by them. I sent up these sorrowful
cries: “How long, how long? Tomorrow and tomorrow? Why not now? Why not this
very hour make an end to my uncleanness?”
29. I was saying these things and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my
heart, when suddenly I heard the voice of a boy or a girl I know not which--coming
from the neighboring house, chanting over and over again, “Pick it up, read it; pick
it up, read it.”260 Immediately I ceased weeping and began most earnestly to think
whether it was usual for children in some kind of game to sing such a song, but I
could not remember ever having heard the like. So, damming the torrent of my
tears, I got to my feet, for I could not but think that this was a divine command to
open the Bible and read the first passage I should light upon. For I had heard261
how Anthony, accidentally coming into church while the gospel was being read,
received the admonition as if what was read had been addressed to him: “Go and
sell what you have and give it to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven;
and come and follow me.”262 By such an oracle he was forthwith converted to thee.
So I quickly returned to the bench where Alypius was sitting, for there I had
put down the apostle’s book when I had left there. I snatched it up, opened it, and in
silence read the paragraph on which my eyes first fell: “Not in rioting and
drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying, but put
on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts
thereof.”263 I wanted to read no further, nor did I need to. For instantly, as the
sentence ended, there was infused in my heart something like the light of full
259Cf. Ps. 6:3; 79:8.
260This is the famous Tolle, lege; tolle, lege.
261Doubtless from Ponticianus, in their earlier conversation.
262Matt. 19:21.
263Rom. 13:13.
certainty and all the gloom of doubt vanished away.264
30. Closing the book, then, and putting my finger or something else for a
mark I began--now with a tranquil countenance--to tell it all to Alypius. And he in
turn disclosed to me what had been going on in himself, of which I knew nothing.
He asked to see what I had read. I showed him, and he looked on even further than
I had read. I had not known what followed. But indeed it was this, “Him that is
weak in the faith, receive.”265 This he applied to himself, and told me so. By these
words of warning he was strengthened, and by exercising his good resolution and
purpose--all very much in keeping with his character, in which, in these respects, he
was always far different from and better than I--he joined me in full commitment
without any restless hesitation.
Then we went in to my mother, and told her what happened, to her great joy.
We explained to her how it had occurred--and she leaped for joy triumphant; and
she blessed thee, who art “able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask
or think.”266 For she saw that thou hadst granted her far more than she had ever
asked for in all her pitiful and doleful lamentations. For thou didst so convert me to
thee that I sought neither a wife nor any other of this world’s hopes, but set my feet
on that rule of faith which so many years before thou hadst showed her in her
dream about me. And so thou didst turn her grief into gladness more plentiful than
she had ventured to desire, and dearer and purer than the desire she used to
cherish of having grandchildren of my flesh.
264Note the parallels here to the conversion of Anthony and the agentes in rebus.
265Rom. 14:1.
266Eph. 3:20.
BOOK NINE
The end of the autobiography. Augustine tells of his resigning from his professorship
and of the days at Cassiciacum in preparation for baptism. He is baptized together
with Adeodatus and Alypius. Shortly thereafter, they start back for Africa. Augustine
recalls the ecstasy he and his mother shared in Ostia and then reports her death and
burial and his grief. The book closes with a moving prayer for the souls of Monica,
Patricius, and all his fellow citizens of the heavenly Jerusalem.
CHAPTER I
1. “O Lord, I am thy servant; I am thy servant and the son of thy handmaid.
Thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving.”267 Let
my heart and my tongue praise thee, and let all my bones say, “Lord, who is like
unto thee?” Let them say so, and answer thou me and say unto my soul, “I am your
salvation.”
Who am I, and what is my nature? What evil is there not in me and my
deeds; or if not in my deeds, my words; or if not in my words, my will? But thou, O
Lord, art good and merciful, and thy right hand didst reach into the depth of my
death and didst empty out the abyss of corruption from the bottom of my heart. And
this was the result: now I did not will to do what I willed, and began to will to do
what thou didst will.
But where was my free will during all those years and from what deep and
secret retreat was it called forth in a single moment, whereby I gave my neck to thy
“easy yoke” and my shoulders to thy “light burden,” O Christ Jesus, “my Strength
and my Redeemer”? How sweet did it suddenly become to me to be without the
sweetness of trifles! And it was now a joy to put away what I formerly feared to lose.
For thou didst cast them away from me, O true and highest Sweetness. Thou didst
cast them away, and in their place thou didst enter in thyself--sweeter than all
pleasure, though not to flesh and blood; brighter than all light, but more veiled than
all mystery; more exalted than all honor, though not to them that are exalted in
their own eyes. Now was my soul free from the gnawing cares of seeking and
getting, of wallowing in the mire and scratching the itch of lust. And I prattled like
a child to thee, O Lord my God--my light, my riches, and my salvation.
CHAPTER II
2. And it seemed right to me, in thy sight, not to snatch my tongue’s service
abruptly out of the speech market, but to withdraw quietly, so that the young men
who were not concerned about thy law or thy peace, but with mendacious follies and
forensic strifes, might no longer purchase from my mouth weapons for their frenzy.
Fortunately, there were only a few days before the “vintage vacation” 268; and I
determined to endure them, so that I might resign in due form and, now bought by
thee, return for sale no more.
My plan was known to thee, but, save for my own friends, it was not known to
other men. For we had agreed that it should not be made public; although, in our
ascent from the “valley of tears” and our singing of “the song of degrees,” thou hadst
given us sharp arrows and hot burning coals to stop that deceitful tongue which
267Ps. 116:16, 17.
268An imperial holiday season, from late August to the middle of October.
opposes under the guise of good counsel, and devours what it loves as though it were
food.
3. Thou hadst pierced our heart with thy love, and we carried thy words, as it
were, thrust through our vitals. The examples of thy servants whom thou hadst
changed from black to shining white, and from death to life, crowded into the bosom
of our thoughts and burned and consumed our sluggish temper, that we might not
topple back into the abyss. And they fired us exceedingly, so that every breath of the
deceitful tongue of our detractors might fan the flame and not blow it out.
Though this vow and purpose of ours should find those who would loudly
praise it--for the sake of thy name, which thou hast sanctified throughout the earth-it nevertheless looked like a self-vaunting not to wait until the vacation time now
so near. For if I had left such a public office ahead of time, and had made the break
in the eye of the general public, all who took notice of this act of mine and observed
how near was the vintage time that I wished to anticipate would have talked about
me a great deal, as if I were trying to appear a great person. And what purpose
would it serve that people should consider and dispute about my conversion so that
my good should be evil spoken of?
4. Furthermore, this same summer my lungs had begun to be weak from too
much literary labor. Breathing was difficult; the pains in my chest showed that the
lungs were affected and were soon fatigued by too loud or prolonged speaking. This
had at first been a trial to me, for it would have compelled me almost of necessity to
lay down that burden of teaching; or, if I was to be cured and become strong again,
at least to take a leave for a while. But as soon as the full desire to be still that I
might know that thou art the Lord269 arose and was confirmed in me, thou knowest,
my God, that I began to rejoice that I had this excuse ready--and not a feigned one,
either--which might somewhat temper the displeasure of those who for their sons’
freedom wished me never to have any freedom of my own.
Full of joy, then, I bore it until my time ran out--it was perhaps some twenty
days--yet it was some strain to go through with it, for the greediness which helped
to support the drudgery had gone, and I would have been overwhelmed had not its
place been taken by patience. Some of thy servants, my brethren, may say that I
sinned in this, since having once fully and from my heart enlisted in thy service, I
permitted myself to sit a single hour in the chair of falsehood. I will not dispute it.
But hast thou not, O most merciful Lord, pardoned and forgiven this sin in the holy
water270 also, along with all the others, horrible and deadly as they were?
CHAPTER III
5. Verecundus was severely disturbed by this new happiness of mine, since he
was still firmly held by his bonds and saw that he would lose my companionship.
For he was not yet a Christian, though his wife was; and, indeed, he was more
firmly enchained by her than by anything else, and held back from that journey on
which we had set out. Furthermore, he declared he did not wish to be a Christian on
any terms except those that were impossible. However, he invited us most
courteously to make use of his country house so long as we would stay there. O
Lord, thou wilt recompense him for this “in the resurrection of the just,”271 seeing
that thou hast already given him “the lot of the righteous.”272 For while we were
269Cf. Ps. 46:10.
270His subsequent baptism; see below, Ch. VI.
271Luke 14:14.
272Ps. 125:3.
absent at Rome, he was overtaken with bodily sickness, and during it he was made
a Christian and departed this life as one of the faithful. Thus thou hadst mercy on
him, and not on him only, but on us as well; lest, remembering the exceeding
kindness of our friend to us and not able to count him in thy flock, we should be
tortured with intolerable grief. Thanks be unto thee, our God; we are thine. Thy
exhortations, consolations, and faithful promises assure us that thou wilt repay
Verecundus for that country house at Cassiciacum--where we found rest in thee
from the fever of the world--with the perpetual freshness of thy paradise in which
thou hast forgiven him his earthly sins, in that mountain flowing with milk, that
fruitful mountain--thy own.
6. Thus Verecundus was full of grief; but Nebridius was joyous. For he was
not yet a Christian, and had fallen into the pit of deadly error, believing that the
flesh of thy Son, the Truth, was a phantom.273 Yet he had come up out of that pit
and now held the same belief that we did. And though he was not as yet initiated in
any of the sacraments of thy Church, he was a most earnest inquirer after truth.
Not long after our conversion and regeneration by thy baptism, he also became a
faithful member of the Catholic Church, serving thee in perfect chastity and
continence among his own people in Africa, and bringing his whole household with
him to Christianity. Then thou didst release him from the flesh, and now he lives in
Abraham’s bosom. Whatever is signified by that term “bosom,” there lives my
Nebridius, my sweet friend, thy son by adoption, O Lord, and not a freedman any
longer. There he lives; for what other place could there be for such a soul? There he
lives in that abode about which he used to ask me so many questions--poor ignorant
one that I was. Now he does not put his ear up to my mouth, but his spiritual mouth
to thy fountain, and drinks wisdom as he desires and as he is able--happy without
end. But I do not believe that he is so inebriated by that draught as to forget me;
since thou, O Lord, who art the draught, art mindful of us.
Thus, then, we were comforting the unhappy Verecundus--our friendship
untouched--reconciling him to our conversion and exhorting him to a faith fit for his
condition (that is, to his being married). We tarried for Nebridius to follow us, since
he was so close, and this he was just about to do when at last the interim ended.
The days had seemed long and many because of my eagerness for leisure and liberty
in which I might sing to thee from my inmost part, “My heart has said to thee, I
have sought thy face; thy face, O Lord, will I seek.”274
CHAPTER IV
7. Finally the day came on which I was actually to be relieved from the
professorship of rhetoric, from which I had already been released in intention. And
it was done. And thou didst deliver my tongue as thou hadst already delivered my
heart; and I blessed thee for it with great joy, and retired with my friends to the
villa.275 My books testify to what I got done there in writing, which was now
hopefully devoted to thy service; though in this pause it was still as if I were
panting from my exertions in the school of pride.276 These were the books in which I
273The heresy of Docetism, one of the earliest and most persistent of all Christological errors.
274Cf. Ps. 27:8.
275The group included Monica, Adeodatus (Augustine's fifteen-year-old son), Navigius (Augustine's
brother), Rusticus and Fastidianus (relatives), Alypius, Trygetius, and Licentius (former pupils).
276A somewhat oblique acknowledgment of the fact that none of the Cassiciacum dialogues has any
distinctive or substantial Christian content. This has often been pointed to as evidence that
Augustine's conversion thus far had brought him no farther than to a kind of Christian Platonism; cf.
P. Alfaric, L'Évolution intellectuelle de Saint Augustin (Paris, 1918).
engaged in dialogue with my friends, and also those in soliloquy before thee
alone.277 And there are my letters to Nebridius, who was still absent.278
When would there be enough time to recount all thy great blessings which
thou didst bestow on us in that time, especially as I am hastening on to still greater
mercies? For my memory recalls them to me and it is pleasant to confess them to
thee, O Lord: the inward goads by which thou didst subdue me and how thou
broughtest me low, leveling the mountains and hills of my thoughts, straightening
my crookedness, and smoothing my rough ways. And I remember by what means
thou also didst subdue Alypius, my heart’s brother, to the name of thy only Son, our
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ--which he at first refused to have inserted in our
writings. For at first he preferred that they should smell of the cedars of the
schools 279 which the Lord hath now broken down, rather than of the wholesome
herbs of the Church, hostile to serpents.280
8. O my God, how did I cry to thee when I read the psalms of David, those
hymns of faith, those paeans of devotion which leave no room for swelling pride! I
was still a novice in thy true love, a catechumen keeping holiday at the villa, with
Alypius, a catechumen like myself. My mother was also with us--in woman’s garb,
but with a man’s faith, with the peacefulness of age and the fullness of motherly
love and Christian piety. What cries I used to send up to thee in those songs, and
how I was enkindled toward thee by them! I burned to sing them if possible,
throughout the whole world, against the pride of the human race. And yet, indeed,
they are sung throughout the whole world, and none can hide himself from thy heat.
With what strong and bitter regret was I indignant at the Manicheans! Yet I also
pitied them; for they were ignorant of those sacraments, those medicines281--and
raved insanely against the cure that might have made them sane! I wished they
could have been somewhere close by, and--without my knowledge--could have seen
my face and heard my words when, in that time of leisure, I pored over the Fourth
Psalm. And I wish they could have seen how that psalm affected me.282 “When I
called upon thee, O God of my righteousness, thou didst hear me; thou didst enlarge
me when I was in distress. Have mercy upon me and hear my prayer.” I wish they
might have heard what I said in comment on those words--without my knowing that
they heard, lest they should think that I was speaking it just on their account. For,
indeed, I should not have said quite the same things, nor quite in the same way, if I
had known that I was heard and seen by them. And if I had so spoken, they would
not have meant the same things to them as they did to me when I spoke by and for
myself before thee, out of the private affections of my soul.
9. By turns I trembled with fear and warmed with hope and rejoiced in thy
mercy, O Father. And all these feelings showed forth in my eyes and voice when thy
good Spirit turned to us and said, “O sons of men, how long will you be slow of
heart, how long will you love vanity, and seek after falsehood?” For I had loved
vanity and sought after falsehood. And thou, O Lord, had already magnified thy
Holy One, raising him from the dead and setting him at thy right hand, that thence
277The dialogues written during this stay at Cassiciacum: Contra Academicos, De beata vita, De
ordine, Soliloquia. See, in this series, Vol. VI, pp. 17-63, for an English translation of the Soliloquies.
278Cf. Epistles II and III.
279A symbolic reference to the "cedars of Lebanon"; cf. Isa. 2:12-14; Ps. 29:5.
280There is perhaps a remote connection here with Luke 10:18-20.
281Ever since the time of Ignatius of Antioch who referred to the Eucharist as "the medicine of
immortality," this had been a popular metaphor to refer to the sacraments; cf. Ignatius, Ephesians
20:2.
282Here follows (8-11) a brief devotional commentary on Ps. 4.
he should send forth from on high his promised “Paraclete, the Spirit of Truth.”
Already he had sent him, and I knew it not. He had sent him because he was now
magnified, rising from the dead and ascending into heaven. For till then “the Holy
Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.”283 And the prophet
cried out: “How long will you be slow of heart? How long will you love vanity, and
seek after falsehood? Know this, that the Lord hath magnified his Holy One.” He
cries, “How long?” He cries, “Know this,” and I--so long “loving vanity, and seeking
after falsehood”--heard and trembled, because these words were spoken to such a
one as I remembered that I myself had been. For in those phantoms which I once
held for truth there was vanity and falsehood. And I spoke many things loudly and
earnestly--in the contrition of my memory--which I wish they had heard, who still
“love vanity and seek after falsehood.” Perhaps they would have been troubled, and
have vomited up their error, and thou wouldst have heard them when they cried to
thee; for by a real death in the flesh He died for us who now maketh intercession for
us with thee.
10. I read on further, “Be angry, and sin not.” And how deeply was I touched,
O my God; for I had now learned to be angry with myself for the things past, so that
in the future I might not sin. Yes, to be angry with good cause, for it was not
another nature out of the race of darkness that had sinned for me--as they affirm
who are not angry with themselves, and who store up for themselves dire wrath
against the day of wrath and the revelation of thy righteous judgment. Nor were the
good things I saw now outside me, nor were they to be seen with the eyes of flesh in
the light of the earthly sun. For they that have their joys from without sink easily
into emptiness and are spilled out on those things that are visible and temporal,
and in their starving thoughts they lick their very shadows. If only they would grow
weary with their hunger and would say, “Who will show us any good?” And we
would answer, and they would hear, “O Lord, the light of thy countenance shines
bright upon us.” For we are not that Light that enlightens every man, but we are
enlightened by thee, so that we who were formerly in darkness may now be alight in
thee. If only they could behold the inner Light Eternal which, now that I had tasted
it, I gnashed my teeth because I could not show it to them unless they brought me
their heart in their eyes--their roving eyes--and said, “Who will show us any good?”
But even there, in the inner chamber of my soul--where I was angry with myself;
where I was inwardly pricked, where I had offered my sacrifice, slaying my old man,
and hoping in thee with the new resolve of a new life with my trust laid in thee-even there thou hadst begun to grow sweet to me and to “put gladness in my heart.”
And thus as I read all this, I cried aloud and felt its inward meaning. Nor did I wish
to be increased in worldly goods which are wasted by time, for now I possessed, in
thy eternal simplicity, other corn and wine and oil.
11. And with a loud cry from my heart, I read the following verse: “Oh, in
peace! Oh, in the Selfsame!”284 See how he says it: “I will lay me down and take my
rest.” 285 For who shall withstand us when the truth of this saying that is written is
made manifest: “Death is swallowed up in victory”286? For surely thou, who dost not
change, art the Selfsame, and in thee is rest and oblivion to all distress. There is
none other beside thee, nor are we to toil for those many things which are not thee,
for only thou, O Lord, makest me to dwell in hope.”
These things I read and was enkindled--but still I could not discover what to
283John 7:39.
284Idipsum--the oneness and immutability of God.
285Cf. v. 9.
2861 Cor. 15:54.
do with those deaf and dead Manicheans to whom I myself had belonged; for I had
been a bitter and blind reviler against these writings, honeyed with the honey of
heaven and luminous with thy light. And I was sorely grieved at these enemies of
this Scripture.
12. When shall I call to mind all that happened during those holidays? I have
not forgotten them; nor will I be silent about the severity of thy scourge, and the
amazing quickness of thy mercy. During that time thou didst torture me with a
toothache; and when it had become so acute that I was not able to speak, it came
into my heart to urge all my friends who were present to pray for me to thee, the
God of all health. And I wrote it down on the tablet and gave it to them to read.
Presently, as we bowed our knees in supplication, the pain was gone. But what
pain? How did it go? I confess that I was terrified, O Lord my God, because from my
earliest years I had never experienced such pain. And thy purposes were profoundly
impressed upon me; and rejoicing in faith, I praised thy name. But that faith
allowed me no rest in respect of my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me
through thy baptism.
CHAPTER V
13. Now that the vintage vacation was ended, I gave notice to the citizens of
Milan that they might provide their scholars with another word-merchant. I gave as
my reasons my determination to serve thee and also my insufficiency for the task,
because of the difficulty in breathing and the pain in my chest.
And by letters I notified thy bishop, the holy man Ambrose, of my former
errors and my present resolution. And I asked his advice as to which of thy books it
was best for me to read so that I might be the more ready and fit for the reception of
so great a grace. He recommended Isaiah the prophet; and I believe it was because
Isaiah foreshows more clearly than others the gospel, and the calling of the
Gentiles. But because I could not understand the first part and because I imagined
the rest to be like it, I laid it aside with the intention of taking it up again later,
when better practiced in our Lord’s words.
CHAPTER VI
14. When the time arrived for me to give in my name, we left the country and
returned to Milan. Alypius also resolved to be born again in thee at the same time.
He was already clothed with the humility that befits thy sacraments, and was so
brave a tamer of his body that he would walk the frozen Italian soil with his naked
feet, which called for unusual fortitude. We took with us the boy Adeodatus, my son
after the flesh, the offspring of my sin. Thou hadst made of him a noble lad. He was
barely fifteen years old, but his intelligence excelled that of many grave and learned
men. I confess to thee thy gifts, O Lord my God, creator of all, who hast power to
reform our deformities--for there was nothing of me in that boy but the sin. For it
was thou who didst inspire us to foster him in thy discipline, and none other--thy
gifts I confess to thee. There is a book of mine, entitled De Magistro. 287 It is a
dialogue between Adeodatus and me, and thou knowest that all things there put
into the mouth of my interlocutor are his, though he was then only in his sixteenth
year. Many other gifts even more wonderful I found in him. His talent was a source
of awe to me. And who but thou couldst be the worker of such marvels? And thou
didst quickly remove his life from the earth, and even now I recall him to mind with
287Concerning the Teacher; cf. Vol. VI of this series, pp. 64-101.
a sense of security, because I fear nothing for his childhood or youth, nor for his
whole career. We took him for our companion, as if he were the same age in grace
with ourselves, to be trained with ourselves in thy discipline. And so we were
baptized and the anxiety about our past life left us.
Nor did I ever have enough in those days of the wondrous sweetness of
meditating on the depth of thy counsels concerning the salvation of the human race.
How freely did I weep in thy hymns and canticles; how deeply was I moved by the
voices of thy sweet-speaking Church! The voices flowed into my ears; and the truth
was poured forth into my heart, where the tide of my devotion overflowed, and my
tears ran down, and I was happy in all these things.
CHAPTER VII
15. The church of Milan had only recently begun to employ this mode of
consolation and exaltation with all the brethren singing together with great
earnestness of voice and heart. For it was only about a year--not much more--since
Justina, the mother of the boy-emperor Valentinian, had persecuted thy servant
Ambrose on behalf of her heresy, in which she had been seduced by the Arians. The
devoted people kept guard in the church, prepared to die with their bishop, thy
servant. Among them my mother, thy handmaid, taking a leading part in those
anxieties and vigils, lived there in prayer. And even though we were still not wholly
melted by the heat of thy Spirit, we were nevertheless excited by the alarmed and
disturbed city.
This was the time that the custom began, after the manner of the Eastern
Church, that hymns and psalms should be sung, so that the people would not be
worn out with the tedium of lamentation. This custom, retained from then till now,
has been imitated by many, indeed, by almost all thy congregations throughout the
rest of the world.288
16. Then by a vision thou madest known to thy renowned bishop the spot
where lay the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius, the martyrs, whom thou hadst
preserved uncorrupted for so many years in thy secret storehouse, so that thou
mightest produce them at a fit time to check a woman’s fury--a woman indeed, but
also a queen! When they were discovered and dug up and brought with due honor to
the basilica of Ambrose, as they were borne along the road many who were troubled
by unclean spirits--the devils confessing themselves--were healed. And there was
also a certain man, a well-known citizen of the city, blind many years, who, when he
had asked and learned the reason for the people’s tumultuous joy, rushed out and
begged his guide to lead him to the place. When he arrived there, he begged to be
permitted to touch with his handkerchief the bier of thy saints, whose death is
precious in thy sight. When he had done this, and put it to his eyes, they were
immediately opened. The fame of all this spread abroad; from this thy glory shone
more brightly. And also from this the mind of that angry woman, though not
enlarged to the sanity of a full faith, was nevertheless restrained from the fury of
persecution.
Thanks to thee, O my God. Whence and whither hast thou led my memory,
that I should confess such things as these to thee--for great as they were, I had
forgetfully passed them over? And yet at that time, when the sweet savor of thy
ointment was so fragrant, I did not run after thee.289 Therefore, I wept more bitterly
288This was apparently the first introduction into the West of antiphonal chanting, which was
already widespread in the East. Ambrose brought it in; Gregory brought it to perfection.
289Cf. S. of Sol. 1:3, 4.
as I listened to thy hymns, having so long panted after thee. And now at length I
could breathe as much as the space allows in this our straw house.290
CHAPTER VIII
17. Thou, O Lord, who makest men of one mind to dwell in a single house,
also broughtest Evodius to join our company. He was a young man of our city, who,
while serving as a secret service agent, was converted to thee and baptized before
us. He had relinquished his secular service, and prepared himself for thine. We
were together, and we were resolved to live together in our devout purpose.
We cast about for some place where we might be most useful in our service to
thee, and had planned on going back together to Africa. And when we had got as far
as Ostia on the Tiber, my mother died.
I am passing over many things, for I must hasten. Receive, O my God, my
confessions and thanksgiving for the unnumbered things about which I am silent.
But I will not omit anything my mind has brought back concerning thy handmaid
who brought me forth--in her flesh, that I might be born into this world’s light, and
in her heart, that I might be born to life eternal. I will not speak of her gifts, but of
thy gift in her; for she neither made herself nor trained herself. Thou didst create
her, and neither her father nor her mother knew what kind of being was to come
forth from them. And it was the rod of thy Christ, the discipline of thy only Son,
that trained her in thy fear, in the house of one of thy faithful ones who was a sound
member of thy Church. Yet my mother did not attribute this good training of hers as
much to the diligence of her own mother as to that of a certain elderly maidservant
who had nursed her father, carrying him around on her back, as big girls carried
babies. Because of her long-time service and also because of her extreme age and
excellent character, she was much respected by the heads of that Christian
household. The care of her master’s daughters was also committed to her, and she
performed her task with diligence. She was quite earnest in restraining them with a
holy severity when necessary and instructing them with a sober sagacity. Thus,
except at mealtimes at their parents’ table--when they were fed very temperately-she would not allow them to drink even water, however parched they were with
thirst. In this way she took precautions against an evil custom and added the
wholesome advice: “You drink water now only because you don’t control the wine;
but when you are married and mistresses of pantry and cellar, you may not care for
water, but the habit of drinking will be fixed.” By such a method of instruction, and
her authority, she restrained the longing of their tender age, and regulated even the
thirst of the girls to such a decorous control that they no longer wanted what they
ought not to have.
18. And yet, as thy handmaid related to me, her son, there had stolen upon
her a love of wine. For, in the ordinary course of things, when her parents sent her
as a sober maiden to draw wine from the cask, she would hold a cup under the tap;
and then, before she poured the wine into the bottle, she would wet the tips of her
lips with a little of it, for more than this her taste refused. She did not do this out of
any craving for drink, but out of the overflowing buoyancy of her time of life, which
bubbles up with sportiveness and youthful spirits, but is usually borne down by the
gravity of the old folks. And so, adding daily a little to that little--for “he that
contemns small things shall fall by a little here and a little there”291--she slipped
into such a habit as to drink off eagerly her little cup nearly full of wine.
290Cf. Isa. 40:6; 1 Peter 1:24: "All flesh is grass." See Bk. XI, Ch. II, 3.
291Ecclus. 19:1.
Where now was that wise old woman and her strict prohibition? Could
anything prevail against our secret disease if thy medicine, O Lord, did not watch
over us? Though father and mother and nurturers are absent, thou art present, who
dost create, who callest, and who also workest some good for our salvation, through
those who are set over us. What didst thou do at that time, O my God? How didst
thou heal her? How didst thou make her whole? Didst thou not bring forth from
another woman’s soul a hard and bitter insult, like a surgeon’s knife from thy secret
store, and with one thrust drain off all that putrefaction? For the slave girl who
used to accompany her to the cellar fell to quarreling with her little mistress, as it
sometimes happened when she was alone with her, and cast in her teeth this vice of
hers, along with a very bitter insult: calling her “a drunkard.” Stung by this taunt,
my mother saw her own vileness and immediately condemned and renounced it.
As the flattery of friends corrupts, so often do the taunts of enemies instruct.
Yet thou repayest them, not for the good thou workest through their means, but for
the malice they intended. That angry slave girl wanted to infuriate her young
mistress, not to cure her; and that is why she spoke up when they were alone. Or
perhaps it was because their quarrel just happened to break out at that time and
place; or perhaps she was afraid of punishment for having told of it so late.
But thou, O Lord, ruler of heaven and earth, who changest to thy purposes
the deepest floods and controls the turbulent tide of the ages, thou healest one soul
by the unsoundness of another; so that no man, when he hears of such a happening,
should attribute it to his own power if another person whom he wishes to reform is
reformed through a word of his.
CHAPTER IX
19. Thus modestly and soberly brought up, she was made subject to her
parents by thee, rather more than by her parents to thee. She arrived at a
marriageable age, and she was given to a husband whom she served as her lord.
And she busied herself to gain him to thee, preaching thee to him by her behavior,
in which thou madest her fair and reverently amiable, and admirable to her
husband. For she endured with patience his infidelity and never had any dissension
with her husband on this account. For she waited for thy mercy upon him until, by
believing in thee, he might become chaste.
Moreover, even though he was earnest in friendship, he was also violent in
anger; but she had learned that an angry husband should not be resisted, either in
deed or in word. But as soon as he had grown calm and was tranquil, and she saw a
fitting moment, she would give him a reason for her conduct, if he had been excited
unreasonably. As a result, while many matrons whose husbands were more gentle
than hers bore the marks of blows on their disfigured faces, and would in private
talk blame the behavior of their husbands, she would blame their tongues,
admonishing them seriously--though in a jesting manner--that from the hour they
heard what are called the matrimonial tablets read to them, they should think of
them as instruments by which they were made servants. So, always being mindful
of their condition, they ought not to set themselves up in opposition to their lords.
And, knowing what a furious, bad-tempered husband she endured, they marveled
that it had never been rumored, nor was there any mark to show, that Patricius had
ever beaten his wife, or that there had been any domestic strife between them, even
for a day. And when they asked her confidentially the reason for this, she taught
them the rule I have mentioned. Those who observed it confirmed the wisdom of it
and rejoiced; those who did not observe it were bullied and vexed.
20. Even her mother-in-law, who was at first prejudiced against her by the
whisperings of malicious servants, she conquered by submission, persevering in it
with patience and meekness; with the result that the mother-in-law told her son of
the tales of the meddling servants which had disturbed the domestic peace between
herself and her daughter-in-law and begged him to punish them for it. In conformity
with his mother’s wish, and in the interest of family discipline to insure the future
harmony of its members, he had those servants beaten who were pointed out by her
who had discovered them; and she promised a similar reward to anyone else who,
thinking to please her, should say anything evil of her daughter-in-law. After this
no one dared to do so, and they lived together with a wonderful sweetness of mutual
good will.
21. This other great gift thou also didst bestow, O my God, my Mercy, upon
that good handmaid of thine, in whose womb thou didst create me. It was that
whenever she could she acted as a peacemaker between any differing and
discordant spirits, and when she heard very bitter things on either side of a
controversy--the kind of bloated and undigested discord which often belches forth
bitter words, when crude malice is breathed out by sharp tongues to a present
friend against an absent enemy--she would disclose nothing about the one to the
other except what might serve toward their reconciliation. This might seem a small
good to me if I did not know to my sorrow countless persons who, through the horrid
and far-spreading infection of sin, not only repeat to enemies mutually enraged
things said in passion against each other, but also add some things that were never
said at all. It ought not to be enough in a truly humane man merely not to incite or
increase the enmities of men by evil-speaking; he ought likewise to endeavor by
kind words to extinguish them. Such a one was she--and thou, her most intimate
instructor, didst teach her in the school of her heart.
22. Finally, her own husband, now toward the end of his earthly existence,
she won over to thee. Henceforth, she had no cause to complain of unfaithfulness in
him, which she had endured before he became one of the faithful. She was also the
servant of thy servants. All those who knew her greatly praised, honored, and loved
thee in her because, through the witness of the fruits of a holy life, they recognized
thee present in her heart. For she had “been the wife of one man,”292 had honored
her parents, had guided her house in piety, was highly reputed for good works, and
brought up her children, travailing in labor with them as often as she saw them
swerving from thee. Lastly, to all of us, O Lord--since of thy favor thou allowest thy
servants to speak--to all of us who lived together in that association before her
death in thee she devoted such care as she might have if she had been mother of us
all; she served us as if she had been the daughter of us all.
CHAPTER X
23. As the day now approached on which she was to depart this life--a day
which thou knewest, but which we did not--it happened (though I believe it was by
thy secret ways arranged) that she and I stood alone, leaning in a certain window
from which the garden of the house we occupied at Ostia could be seen. Here in this
place, removed from the crowd, we were resting ourselves for the voyage after the
fatigues of a long journey.
We were conversing alone very pleasantly and “forgetting those things which
are past, and reaching forward toward those things which are future.”293 We were
in the present--and in the presence of Truth (which thou art)--discussing together
2921 Tim. 5:9.
293Phil. 3:13.
what is the nature of the eternal life of the saints: which eye has not seen, nor ear
heard, neither has entered into the heart of man.294 We opened wide the mouth of
our heart, thirsting for those supernal streams of thy fountain, “the fountain of life”
which is with thee,295 that we might be sprinkled with its waters according to our
capacity and might in some measure weigh the truth of so profound a mystery.
24. And when our conversation had brought us to the point where the very
highest of physical sense and the most intense illumination of physical light
seemed, in comparison with the sweetness of that life to come, not worthy of
comparison, nor even of mention, we lifted ourselves with a more ardent love toward
the Selfsame,296 and we gradually passed through all the levels of bodily objects,
and even through the heaven itself, where the sun and moon and stars shine on the
earth. Indeed, we soared higher yet by an inner musing, speaking and marveling at
thy works.
And we came at last to our own minds and went beyond them, that we might
climb as high as that region of unfailing plenty where thou feedest Israel forever
with the food of truth, where life is that Wisdom by whom all things are made, both
which have been and which are to be. Wisdom is not made, but is as she has been
and forever shall be; for “to have been” and “to be hereafter” do not apply to her, but
only “to be,” because she is eternal and “to have been” and “to be hereafter” are not
eternal.
And while we were thus speaking and straining after her, we just barely
touched her with the whole effort of our hearts. Then with a sigh, leaving the first
fruits of the Spirit bound to that ecstasy, we returned to the sounds of our own
tongue, where the spoken word had both beginning and end.297 But what is like to
thy Word, our Lord, who remaineth in himself without becoming old, and “makes all
things new”298?
25. What we said went something like this: “If to any man the tumult of the
flesh were silenced; and the phantoms of earth and waters and air were silenced;
and the poles were silent as well; indeed, if the very soul grew silent to herself, and
went beyond herself by not thinking of herself; if fancies and imaginary revelations
were silenced; if every tongue and every sign and every transient thing--for actually
if any man could hear them, all these would say, ‘We did not create ourselves, but
were created by Him who abides forever’--and if, having uttered this, they too
should be silent, having stirred our ears to hear him who created them; and if then
he alone spoke, not through them but by himself, that we might hear his word, not
in fleshly tongue or angelic voice, nor sound of thunder, nor the obscurity of a
parable, but might hear him--him for whose sake we love these things--if we could
hear him without these, as we two now strained ourselves to do, we then with rapid
thought might touch on that Eternal Wisdom which abides over all. And if this
could be sustained, and other visions of a far different kind be taken away, and this
one should so ravish and absorb and envelop its beholder in these inward joys that
his life might be eternally like that one moment of knowledge which we now sighed
after--would not this be the reality of the saying, ‘Enter into the joy of thy Lord’299?
294Cf. 1 Cor. 2:9.
295Ps. 36:9.
296Idipsum.
297Cf. this report of a "Christian ecstasy" with the Plotinian ecstasy recounted in Bk. VII, Ch. XVII,
23, above.
298Cf. Wis. 7:21-30; see especially v. 27: "And being but one, she [Wisdom] can do all things: and
remaining in herself the same, she makes all things new."
299Matt. 25:21.
But when shall such a thing be? Shall it not be ‘when we all shall rise again,’ and
shall it not be that ‘all things will be changed’300?”
26. Such a thought I was expressing, and if not in this manner and in these
words, still, O Lord, thou knowest that on that day we were talking thus and that
this world, with all its joys, seemed cheap to us even as we spoke. Then my mother
said: “Son, for myself I have no longer any pleasure in anything in this life. Now
that my hopes in this world are satisfied, I do not know what more I want here or
why I am here. There was indeed one thing for which I wished to tarry a little in
this life, and that was that I might see you a Catholic Christian before I died. My
God hath answered this more than abundantly, so that I see you now made his
servant and spurning all earthly happiness. What more am I to do here?”
CHAPTER XI
27. I do not well remember what reply I made to her about this. However, it
was scarcely five days later--certainly not much more--that she was prostrated by
fever. While she was sick, she fainted one day and was for a short time quite
unconscious. We hurried to her, and when she soon regained her senses, she looked
at me and my brother301 as we stood by her, and said, in inquiry, “Where was I?”
Then looking intently at us, dumb in our grief, she said, “Here in this place shall
you bury your mother.” I was silent and held back my tears; but my brother said
something, wishing her the happier lot of dying in her own country and not abroad.
When she heard this, she fixed him with her eye and an anxious countenance,
because he savored of such earthly concerns, and then gazing at me she said, “See
how he speaks.” Soon after, she said to us both: “Lay this body anywhere, and do not
let the care of it be a trouble to you at all. Only this I ask: that you will remember
me at the Lord’s altar, wherever you are.” And when she had expressed her wish in
such words as she could, she fell silent, in heavy pain with her increasing sickness.
28. But as I thought about thy gifts, O invisible God, which thou plantest in
the heart of thy faithful ones, from which such marvelous fruits spring up, I rejoiced
and gave thanks to thee, remembering what I had known of how she had always
been much concerned about her burial place, which she had provided and prepared
for herself by the body of her husband. For as they had lived very peacefully
together, her desire had always been--so little is the human mind capable of
grasping things divine--that this last should be added to all that happiness, and
commented on by others: that, after her pilgrimage beyond the sea, it would be
granted her that the two of them, so united on earth, should lie in the same grave.
When this vanity, through the bounty of thy goodness, had begun to be no
longer in her heart, I do not know; but I joyfully marveled at what she had thus
disclosed to me--though indeed in our conversation in the window, when she said,
“What is there here for me to do any more?” she appeared not to desire to die in her
own country. I heard later on that, during our stay in Ostia, she had been talking in
maternal confidence to some of my friends about her contempt of this life and the
blessing of death. When they were amazed at the courage which was given her, a
woman, and had asked her whether she did not dread having her body buried so far
from her own city, she replied: “Nothing is far from God. I do not fear that, at the
end of time, he should not know the place whence he is to resurrect me.” And so on
the ninth day of her sickness, in the fifty-sixth year of her life and the thirty-third of
3001 Cor. 15:51.
301Navigius, who had joined them in Milan, but about whom Augustine is curiously silent save for
the brief and unrevealing references in De beata vita, I, 6, to II, 7, and De ordine, I, 2-3.
mine,302 that religious and devout soul was set loose from the body.
CHAPTER XII
29. I closed her eyes; and there flowed in a great sadness on my heart and it
was passing into tears, when at the strong behest of my mind my eyes sucked back
the fountain dry, and sorrow was in me like a convulsion. As soon as she breathed
her last, the boy Adeodatus burst out wailing; but he was checked by us all, and
became quiet. Likewise, my own childish feeling which was, through the youthful
voice of my heart, seeking escape in tears, was held back and silenced. For we did
not consider it fitting to celebrate that death with tearful wails and groanings. This
is the way those who die unhappy or are altogether dead are usually mourned. But
she neither died unhappy nor did she altogether die.303 For of this we were assured
by the witness of her good life, her “faith unfeigned,”304 and other manifest
evidence.
30. What was it, then, that hurt me so grievously in my heart except the
newly made wound, caused from having the sweet and dear habit of living together
with her suddenly broken? I was full of joy because of her testimony in her last
illness, when she praised my dutiful attention and called me kind, and recalled with
great affection of love that she had never heard any harsh or reproachful sound
from my mouth against her. But yet, O my God who made us, how can that honor I
paid her be compared with her service to me? I was then left destitute of a great
comfort in her, and my soul was stricken; and that life was torn apart, as it were,
which had been made but one out of hers and mine together. 305
31. When the boy was restrained from weeping, Evodius took up the Psalter
and began to sing, with the whole household responding, the psalm, “I will sing of
mercy and judgment unto thee, O Lord.”306 And when they heard what we were
doing, many of the brethren and religious women came together. And while those
whose office it was to prepare for the funeral went about their task according to
custom, I discoursed in another part of the house, with those who thought I should
not be left alone, on what was appropriate to the occasion. By this balm of truth, I
softened the anguish known to thee. They were unconscious of it and listened
intently and thought me free of any sense of sorrow. But in thy ears, where none of
them heard, I reproached myself for the mildness of my feelings, and restrained the
flow of my grief which bowed a little to my will. The paroxysm returned again, and I
knew what I repressed in my heart, even though it did not make me burst forth into
tears or even change my countenance; and I was greatly annoyed that these human
things had such power over me, which in the due order and destiny of our natural
condition must of necessity happen. And so with a new sorrow I sorrowed for my
sorrow and was wasted with a twofold sadness.
32. So, when the body was carried forth, we both went and returned without
tears. For neither in those prayers which we poured forth to thee, when the sacrifice
of our redemption was offered up to thee for her--with the body placed by the side of
the grave as the custom is there, before it is lowered down into it--neither in those
302A.D. 387.
303Nec omnino moriebatur. Is this an echo of Horace's famous memorial ode, Exegi monumentum
aere perennius . . . non omnis moriar? Cf. Odes, Book III, Ode XXX.
3041 Tim. 1:5.
305Cf. this passage, as Augustine doubtless intended, with the story of his morbid and immoderate
grief at the death of his boyhood friend, above, Bk. IV, Chs. IV, 9, to VII, 12.
306Ps. 101:1.
prayers did I weep. But I was most grievously sad in secret all the day, and with a
troubled mind entreated thee, as I could, to heal my sorrow; but thou didst not. I
now believe that thou wast fixing in my memory, by this one lesson, the power of
the bonds of all habit, even on a mind which now no longer feeds upon deception. It
then occurred to me that it would be a good thing to go and bathe, for I had heard
that the word for bath [balneum] took its name from the Greek balaneion
[βαλανειον], because it washes anxiety from the mind. Now see, this also I confess
to thy mercy, “O Father of the fatherless”307: I bathed and felt the same as I had
done before. For the bitterness of my grief was not sweated from my heart.
Then I slept, and when I awoke I found my grief not a little assuaged. And as
I lay there on my bed, those true verses of Ambrose came to my mind, for thou art
truly,
“Deus, creator omnium,
Polique rector, vestiens
Diem decoro lumine,
Noctem sopora gratia;
Artus solutos ut quies
Reddat laboris usui
Mentesque fessas allevet,
Luctusque solvat anxios.”
“O God, Creator of us all,
Guiding the orbs celestial,
Clothing the day with lovely light,
Appointing gracious sleep by night:
Thy grace our wearied limbs restore
To strengthened labor, as before,
And ease the grief of tired minds
From that deep torment which it finds.”308
33. And then, little by little, there came back to me my former memories of
thy handmaid: her devout life toward thee, her holy tenderness and attentiveness
toward us, which had suddenly been taken away from me--and it was a solace for
me to weep in thy sight, for her and for myself, about her and about myself. Thus I
set free the tears which before I repressed, that they might flow at will, spreading
them out as a pillow beneath my heart. And it rested on them, for thy ears were
near me--not those of a man, who would have made a scornful comment about my
weeping. But now in writing I confess it to thee, O Lord! Read it who will, and
comment how he will, and if he finds me to have sinned in weeping for my mother
for part of an hour--that mother who was for a while dead to my eyes, who had for
many years wept for me that I might live in thy eyes--let him not laugh at me; but if
he be a man of generous love, let him weep for my sins against thee, the Father of
all the brethren of thy Christ.
307Ps. 68:5.
308Sir Tobie Matthew (adapted). For Augustine's own analysis of the scansion and structure of this
hymn, see De musica, VI, 2:2-3; for a brief commentary on the Latin text, see A. S. Walpole, Early
Latin Hymns (Cambridge, 1922), pp. 44-49.
CHAPTER XIII
34. Now that my heart is healed of that wound--so far as it can be charged
against me as a carnal affection--I pour out to thee, O our God, on behalf of thy
handmaid, tears of a very different sort: those which flow from a spirit broken by
the thoughts of the dangers of every soul that dies in Adam. And while she had been
“made alive” in Christ309 even before she was freed from the flesh, and had so lived
as to praise thy name both by her faith and by her life, yet I would not dare say that
from the time thou didst regenerate her by baptism no word came out of her mouth
against thy precepts. But it has been declared by thy Son, the Truth, that
“whosoever shall say to his brother, You fool, shall be in danger of hell-fire.”310 And
there would be doom even for the life of a praiseworthy man if thou judgedst it with
thy mercy set aside. But since thou dost not so stringently inquire after our sins, we
hope with confidence to find some place in thy presence. But whoever recounts his
actual and true merits to thee, what is he doing but recounting to thee thy own
gifts? Oh, if only men would know themselves as men, then “he that glories” would
“glory in the Lord”311!
35. Thus now, O my Praise and my Life, O God of my heart, forgetting for a
little her good deeds for which I give joyful thanks to thee, I now beseech thee for
the sins of my mother. Hearken unto me, through that Medicine of our wounds, who
didst hang upon the tree and who sittest at thy right hand “making intercession for
us.”312 I know that she acted in mercy, and from the heart forgave her debtors their
debts.313 I beseech thee also to forgive her debts, whatever she contracted during so
many years since the water of salvation. Forgive her, O Lord, forgive her, I beseech
thee; “enter not into judgment” with her.314 Let thy mercy be exalted above thy
justice, for thy words are true and thou hast promised mercy to the merciful, that
the merciful shall obtain mercy.315 This is thy gift, who hast mercy on whom thou
wilt and who wilt have compassion on whom thou dost have compassion on.316
36. Indeed, I believe thou hast already done what I ask of thee, but “accept
the freewill offerings of my mouth, O Lord.”317 For when the day of her dissolution
was so close, she took no thought to have her body sumptuously wrapped or
embalmed with spices. Nor did she covet a handsome monument, or even care to be
buried in her own country. About these things she gave no commands at all, but
only desired to have her name remembered at thy altar, where she had served
without the omission of a single day, and where she knew that the holy sacrifice was
dispensed by which that handwriting that was against us is blotted out; and that
enemy vanquished who, when he summed up our offenses and searched for
something to bring against us, could find nothing in Him, in whom we conquer.
Who will restore to him the innocent blood? Who will repay him the price
with which he bought us, so as to take us from him? Thus to the sacrament of our
redemption did thy hand maid bind her soul by the bond of faith. Let none separate
her from thy protection. Let not the “lion” and “dragon” bar her way by force or
3091 Cor. 15:22.
310Matt. 5:22.
3112 Cor. 10:17.
312Rom. 8:34.
313Cf. Matt. 6:12.
314Ps. 143:2.
315Matt. 5:7.
316Cf. Rom. 9:15.
317Ps. 119:108.
fraud. For she will not reply that she owes nothing, lest she be convicted and duped
by that cunning deceiver. Rather, she will answer that her sins are forgiven by Him
to whom no one is able to repay the price which he, who owed us nothing, laid down
for us all.
37. Therefore, let her rest in peace with her husband, before and after whom
she was married to no other man; whom she obeyed with patience, bringing fruit to
thee that she might also win him for thee. And inspire, O my Lord my God, inspire
thy servants, my brothers; thy sons, my masters, who with voice and heart and
writings I serve, that as many of them as shall read these confessions may also at
thy altar remember Monica, thy handmaid, together with Patricius, once her
husband; by whose flesh thou didst bring me into this life, in a manner I know not.
May they with pious affection remember my parents in this transitory life, and
remember my brothers under thee our Father in our Catholic mother; and
remember my fellow citizens in the eternal Jerusalem, for which thy people sigh in
their pilgrimage from birth until their return. So be fulfilled what my mother
desired of me--more richly in the prayers of so many gained for her through these
confessions of mine than by my prayers alone.
BOOK TEN
From autobiography to self-analysis. Augustine turns from his memories of the past
to the inner mysteries of memory itself. In doing so, he reviews his motives for these
written “confessions,” and seeks to chart the path by which men come to God. But
this brings him into the intricate analysis of memory and its relation to the self and
its powers. This done, he explores the meaning and mode of true prayer. In
conclusion, he undertakes a detailed analysis of appetite and the temptations to
which the flesh and the soul are heirs, and comes finally to see how necessary and
right it was for the Mediator between God and man to have been the God-Man.
CHAPTER I
1. Let me know thee, O my Knower; let me know thee even as I am known.318
O Strength of my soul, enter it and prepare it for thyself that thou mayest have and
hold it, without “spot or blemish.”319 This is my hope, therefore have I spoken; and
in this hope I rejoice whenever I rejoice aright. But as for the other things of this
life, they deserve our lamentations less, the more we lament them; and some should
be lamented all the more, the less men care for them. For see, “Thou desirest
truth”320 and “he who does the truth comes to the light.”321 This is what I wish to do
through confession in my heart before thee, and in my writings before many
witnesses.
CHAPTER II
2. And what is there in me that could be hidden from thee, Lord, to whose
eyes the abysses of man’s conscience are naked, even if I were unwilling to confess it
to thee? In doing so I would only hide thee from myself, not myself from thee. But
now that my groaning is witness to the fact that I am dissatisfied with myself, thou
shinest forth and satisfiest. Thou art beloved and desired; so that I blush for myself,
and renounce myself and choose thee, for I can neither please thee nor myself except
in thee. To thee, then, O Lord, I am laid bare, whatever I am, and I have already
said with what profit I may confess to thee. I do not do it with words and sounds of
the flesh but with the words of the soul, and with the sound of my thoughts, which
thy ear knows. For when I am wicked, to confess to thee means nothing less than to
be dissatisfied with myself; but when I am truly devout, it means nothing less than
not to attribute my virtue to myself; because thou, O Lord, blessest the righteous,
but first thou justifiest him while he is yet ungodly. My confession therefore, O my
God, is made unto thee silently in thy sight--and yet not silently. As far as sound is
concerned, it is silent. But in strong affection it cries aloud. For neither do I give
voice to something that sounds right to men, which thou hast not heard from me
before, nor dost thou hear anything of the kind from me which thou didst not first
say to me.
CHAPTER III
318Cf. 1 Cor. 13:12.
319Eph. 5:27.
320Ps. 51:6.
321John 3:21.
3. What is it to me that men should hear my confessions as if it were they
who were going to cure all my infirmities? People are curious to know the lives of
others, but slow to correct their own. Why are they anxious to hear from me what I
am, when they are unwilling to hear from thee what they are? And how can they
tell when they hear what I say about myself whether I speak the truth, since no
man knows what is in a man “save the spirit of man which is in him”322? But if they
were to hear from thee something concerning themselves, they would not be able to
say, “The Lord is lying.” For what does it mean to hear from thee about themselves
but to know themselves? And who is he that knows himself and says, “This is false,”
unless he himself is lying? But, because “love believes all things”323--at least among
those who are bound together in love by its bonds--I confess to thee, O Lord, so that
men may also hear; for if I cannot prove to them that I confess the truth, yet those
whose ears love opens to me will believe me.
4. But wilt thou, O my inner Physician, make clear to me what profit I am to
gain in doing this? For the confessions of my past sins (which thou hast “forgiven
and covered”324 that thou mightest make me blessed in thee, transforming my soul
by faith and thy sacrament), when they are read and heard, may stir up the heart so
that it will stop dozing along in despair, saying, “I cannot”; but will instead awake
in the love of thy mercy and the sweetness of thy grace, by which he that is weak is
strong, provided he is made conscious of his own weakness. And it will please those
who are good to hear about the past errors of those who are now freed from them.
And they will take delight, not because they are errors, but because they were and
are so no longer. What profit, then, O Lord my God--to whom my conscience makes
her daily confession, far more confident in the hope of thy mercy than in her own
innocence--what profit is there, I ask thee, in confessing to men in thy presence,
through this book, both what I am now as well as what I have been? For I have seen
and spoken of my harvest of things past. But what am I now, at this very moment of
making my confessions? Many different people desire to know, both those who know
me and those who do not know me. Some have heard about me or from me, but their
ear is not close to my heart, where I am whatever it is that I am. They have the
desire to hear me confess what I am within, where they can neither extend eye nor
ear nor mind. They desire as those willing to believe--but will they understand? For
the love by which they are good tells them that I am not lying in my confessions,
and the love in them believes me.
CHAPTER IV
5. But for what profit do they desire this? Will they wish me happiness when
they learn how near I have approached thee, by thy gifts? And will they pray for me
when they learn how much I am still kept back by my own weight? To such as these
I will declare myself. For it is no small profit, O Lord my God, that many people
should give thanks to thee on my account and that many should entreat thee for my
sake. Let the brotherly soul love in me what thou teachest him should be loved, and
let him lament in me what thou teachest him should be lamented. Let it be the soul
of a brother that does this, and not a stranger--not one of those “strange children,
whose mouth speaks vanity, and whose right hand is the right hand of
falsehood.”325 But let my brother do it who, when he approves of me, rejoices for me,
3221 Cor. 2:11.
3231 Cor. 13:7.
324Ps. 32:1.
325Ps. 144:7, 8.
but when he disapproves of me is sorry for me; because whether he approves or
disapproves, he loves me. To such I will declare myself. Let them be refreshed by my
good deeds and sigh over my evil ones. My good deeds are thy acts and thy gifts; my
evil ones are my own faults and thy judgment. Let them breathe expansively at the
one and sigh over the other. And let hymns and tears ascend in thy sight out of their
brotherly hearts--which are thy censers.326 And, O Lord, who takest delight in the
incense of thy holy temple, have mercy upon me according to thy great mercy, for
thy name’s sake. And do not, on any account whatever, abandon what thou hast
begun in me. Go on, rather, to complete what is yet imperfect in me.
6. This, then, is the fruit of my confessions (not of what I was, but of what I
am), that I may not confess this before thee alone, in a secret exultation with
trembling and a secret sorrow with hope, but also in the ears of the believing sons of
men--who are the companions of my joy and sharers of my mortality, my fellow
citizens and fellow pilgrims--those who have gone before and those who are to follow
after, as well as the comrades of my present way. These are thy servants, my
brothers, whom thou desirest to be thy sons. They are my masters, whom thou hast
commanded me to serve if I desire to live with and in thee. But this thy Word would
mean little to me if it commanded in words alone, without thy prevenient action. I
do this, then, both in act and word. I do this under thy wings, in a danger too great
to risk if it were not that under thy wings my soul is subject to thee, and my
weakness known to thee. I am insufficient, but my Father liveth forever, and my
Defender is sufficient for me. For he is the Selfsame who didst beget me and who
watcheth over me; thou art the Selfsame who art all my good. Thou art the
Omnipotent, who art with me, even before I am with thee. To those, therefore,
whom thou commandest me to serve, I will declare, not what I was, but what I now
am and what I will continue to be. But I do not judge myself. Thus, therefore, let me
be heard.
CHAPTER V
7. For it is thou, O Lord, who judgest me. For although no man “knows the
things of a man, save the spirit of the man which is in him,”327 yet there is
something of man which “the spirit of the man which is in him” does not know itself.
But thou, O Lord, who madest him, knowest him completely. And even I--though in
thy sight I despise myself and count myself but dust and ashes--even I know
something about thee which I do not know about myself. And it is certain that “now
we see through a glass darkly,” not yet “face to face.”328 Therefore, as long as I
journey away from thee, I am more present with myself than with thee. I know that
thou canst not suffer violence, but I myself do not know what temptations I can
resist, and what I cannot. But there is hope, because thou art faithful and thou wilt
not allow us to be tempted beyond our ability to resist, but wilt with the temptation
also make a way of escape that we may be able to bear it. I would therefore confess
what I know about myself; I will also confess what I do not know about myself.
What I do know of myself, I know from thy enlightening of me; and what I do not
know of myself, I will continue not to know until the time when my “darkness is as
the noonday”329 in thy sight.
326Cf. Rev. 8:3-5. "And the smoke of the incense with the prayers of the saints went up before God
out of the angel's hand" (v. 4).
3271 Cor. 2:11.
3281 Cor. 13:12.
329Isa. 58:10.
CHAPTER VI
8. It is not with a doubtful consciousness, but one fully certain that I love
thee, O Lord. Thou hast smitten my heart with thy Word, and I have loved thee.
And see also the heaven, and earth, and all that is in them--on every side they tell
me to love thee, and they do not cease to tell this to all men, “so that they are
without excuse.”330 Wherefore, still more deeply wilt thou have mercy on whom thou
wilt have mercy, and compassion on whom thou wilt have compassion.331 For
otherwise, both heaven and earth would tell abroad thy praises to deaf ears.
But what is it that I love in loving thee? Not physical beauty, nor the
splendor of time, nor the radiance of the light--so pleasant to our eyes--nor the sweet
melodies of the various kinds of songs, nor the fragrant smell of flowers and
ointments and spices; not manna and honey, not the limbs embraced in physical
love--it is not these I love when I love my God. Yet it is true that I love a certain
kind of light and sound and fragrance and food and embrace in loving my God, who
is the light and sound and fragrance and food and embracement of my inner man-where that light shines into my soul which no place can contain, where time does
not snatch away the lovely sound, where no breeze disperses the sweet fragrance,
where no eating diminishes the food there provided, and where there is an embrace
that no satiety comes to sunder. This is what I love when I love my God.
9. And what is this God? I asked the earth, and it answered, “I am not he”;
and everything in the earth made the same confession. I asked the sea and the
deeps and the creeping things, and they replied, “We are not your God; seek above
us.” I asked the fleeting winds, and the whole air with its inhabitants answered,
“Anaximenes332 was deceived; I am not God.” I asked the heavens, the sun, moon,
and stars; and they answered, “Neither are we the God whom you seek.” And I
replied to all these things which stand around the door of my flesh: “You have told
me about my God, that you are not he. Tell me something about him.” And with a
loud voice they all cried out, “He made us.” My question had come from my
observation of them, and their reply came from their beauty of order. And I turned
my thoughts into myself and said, “Who are you?” And I answered, “A man.” For
see, there is in me both a body and a soul; the one without, the other within. In
which of these should I have sought my God, whom I had already sought with my
body from earth to heaven, as far as I was able to send those messengers--the beams
of my eyes? But the inner part is the better part; for to it, as both ruler and judge,
all these messengers of the senses report the answers of heaven and earth and all
the things therein, who said, “We are not God, but he made us.” My inner man knew
these things through the ministry of the outer man, and I, the inner man, knew all
this--I, the soul, through the senses of my body.333 I asked the whole frame of earth
about my God, and it answered, “I am not he, but he made me.”
10. Is not this beauty of form visible to all whose senses are unimpaired?
Why, then, does it not say the same things to all? Animals, both small and great, see
330Rom. 1:20.
331Cf. Rom. 9:15.
332One of the pre-Socratic "physiologers" who taught that αιθηρ was the primary element in η
φυσιγζ. Cf. Cicero's On the Nature of the Gods (a likely source for Augustine's knowledge of early
Greek philosophy), I, 10: "After Anaximander comes Anaximenes, who taught that the air is God. . .
."
333An important text for Augustine's conception of sensation and the relation of body and mind. Cf.
On Music, VI, 5:10; The Magnitude of the Soul, 25:48; On the Trinity, XII, 2:2; see also F. Coplestone,
A History of Philosophy (London, 1950), II, 51-60, and E. Gilson, Introduction à l'étude de Saint
Augustin, pp. 74-87.
it but they are unable to interrogate its meaning, because their senses are not
endowed with the reason that would enable them to judge the evidence which the
senses report. But man can interrogate it, so that “the invisible things of him . . . are
clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made.” 334 But men love these
created things too much; they are brought into subjection to them--and, as subjects,
are not able to judge. None of these created things reply to their questioners unless
they can make rational judgments. The creatures will not alter their voice--that is,
their beauty of form--if one man simply sees what another both sees and questions,
so that the world appears one way to this man and another to that. It appears the
same way to both; but it is mute to this one and it speaks to that one. Indeed, it
actually speaks to all, but only they understand it who compare the voice received
from without with the truth within. For the truth says to me, “Neither heaven nor
earth nor anybody is your God.” Their very nature tells this to the one who
beholds335 them. “They are a mass, less in part than the whole.” Now, O my soul,
you are my better part, and to you I speak; since you animate the whole mass of
your body, giving it life, whereas no body furnishes life to a body. But your God is
the life of your life.
CHAPTER VII
11. What is it, then, that I love when I love my God? Who is he that is beyond
the topmost point of my soul? Yet by this very soul will I mount up to him. I will
soar beyond that power of mine by which I am united to the body, and by which the
whole structure of it is filled with life. Yet it is not by that vital power that I find my
God. For then “the horse and the mule, that have no understanding,”336 also might
find him, since they have the same vital power, by which their bodies also live. But
there is, besides the power by which I animate my body, another by which I endow
my flesh with sense--a power that the Lord hath provided for me; commanding that
the eye is not to hear and the ear is not to see, but that I am to see by the eye and to
hear by the ear; and giving to each of the other senses its own proper place and
function, through the diversity of which I, the single mind, act. I will soar also
beyond this power of mine, for the horse and mule have this too, for they also
perceive through their bodily senses.
CHAPTER VIII
12. I will soar, then, beyond this power of my nature also, still rising by
degrees toward him who made me. And I enter the fields and spacious halls of
memory, where are stored as treasures the countless images that have been brought
into them from all manner of things by the senses. There, in the memory, is likewise
stored what we cogitate, either by enlarging or reducing our perceptions, or by
altering one way or another those things which the senses have made contact with;
and everything else that has been entrusted to it and stored up in it, which oblivion
has not yet swallowed up and buried.
When I go into this storehouse, I ask that what I want should be brought
forth. Some things appear immediately, but others require to be searched for longer,
and then dragged out, as it were, from some hidden recess. Other things hurry forth
in crowds, on the other hand, and while something else is sought and inquired for,
334Rom. 1:20.
335Reading videnti (with De Labriolle) instead of vident (as in Skutella).
336Ps. 32:9.
they leap into view as if to say, “Is it not we, perhaps?” These I brush away with the
hand of my heart from the face of my memory, until finally the thing I want makes
its appearance out of its secret cell. Some things suggest themselves without effort,
and in continuous order, just as they are called for--the things that come first give
place to those that follow, and in so doing are treasured up again to be forthcoming
when I want them. All of this happens when I repeat a thing from memory.
13. All these things, each one of which came into memory in its own
particular way, are stored up separately and under the general categories of
understanding. For example, light and all colors and forms of bodies came in
through the eyes; sounds of all kinds by the ears; all smells by the passages of the
nostrils; all flavors by the gate of the mouth; by the sensation of the whole body,
there is brought in what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough, heavy or light,
whether external or internal to the body. The vast cave of memory, with its
numerous and mysterious recesses, receives all these things and stores them up, to
be recalled and brought forth when required. Each experience enters by its own
door, and is stored up in the memory. And yet the things themselves do not enter it,
but only the images of the things perceived are there for thought to remember. And
who can tell how these images are formed, even if it is evident which of the senses
brought which perception in and stored it up? For even when I am in darkness and
silence I can bring out colors in my memory if I wish, and discern between black and
white and the other shades as I wish; and at the same time, sounds do not break in
and disturb what is drawn in by my eyes, and which I am considering, because the
sounds which are also there are stored up, as it were, apart. And these too I can
summon if I please and they are immediately present in memory. And though my
tongue is at rest and my throat silent, yet I can sing as I will; and those images of
color, which are as truly present as before, do not interpose themselves or interrupt
while another treasure which had flowed in through the ears is being thought
about. Similarly all the other things that were brought in and heaped up by all the
other senses, I can recall at my pleasure. And I distinguish the scent of lilies from
that of violets while actually smelling nothing; and I prefer honey to mead, a smooth
thing to a rough, even though I am neither tasting nor handling them, but only
remembering them.
14. All this I do within myself, in that huge hall of my memory. For in it,
heaven, earth, and sea are present to me, and whatever I can cogitate about them-except what I have forgotten. There also I meet myself and recall myself337--what,
when, or where I did a thing, and how I felt when I did it. There are all the things
that I remember, either having experienced them myself or been told about them by
others. Out of the same storehouse, with these past impressions, I can construct
now this, now that, image of things that I either have experienced or have believed
on the basis of experience--and from these I can further construct future actions,
events, and hopes; and I can meditate on all these things as if they were present. “I
will do this or that”--I say to myself in that vast recess of my mind, with its full
store of so many and such great images--“and this or that will follow upon it.” “O
that this or that could happen!” “God prevent this or that.” I speak to myself in this
way; and when I speak, the images of what I am speaking about are present out of
the same store of memory; and if the images were absent I could say nothing at all
about them.
15. Great is this power of memory, exceedingly great, O my God--a large and
337The notion of the soul's immediate self-knowledge is a basic conception in Augustine's psychology
and epistemology; cf. the refutation of skepticism, Si fallor, sum in On Free Will, II, 3:7; see also the
City of God, XI, 26.
boundless inner hall! Who has plumbed the depths of it? Yet it is a power of my
mind, and it belongs to my nature. But I do not myself grasp all that I am. Thus the
mind is far too narrow to contain itself. But where can that part of it be which it
does not contain? Is it outside and not in itself? How can it be, then, that the mind
cannot grasp itself? A great marvel rises in me; astonishment seizes me. Men go
forth to marvel at the heights of mountains and the huge waves of the sea, the
broad flow of the rivers, the vastness of the ocean, the orbits of the stars, and yet
they neglect to marvel at themselves. Nor do they wonder how it is that, when I
spoke of all these things, I was not looking at them with my eyes--and yet I could
not have spoken about them had it not been that I was actually seeing within, in my
memory, those mountains and waves and rivers and stars which I have seen, and
that ocean which I believe in--and with the same vast spaces between them as when
I saw them outside me. But when I saw them outside me, I did not take them into
me by seeing them; and the things themselves are not inside me, but only their
images. And yet I knew through which physical sense each experience had made an
impression on me.
CHAPTER IX
16. And yet this is not all that the unlimited capacity of my memory stores
up. In memory, there are also all that one has learned of the liberal sciences, and
has not forgotten--removed still further, so to say, into an inner place which is not a
place. Of these things it is not the images that are retained, but the things
themselves. For what literature and logic are, and what I know about how many
different kinds of questions there are--all these are stored in my memory as they
are, so that I have not taken in the image and left the thing outside. It is not as
though a sound had sounded and passed away like a voice heard by the ear which
leaves a trace by which it can be called into memory again, as if it were still
sounding in mind while it did so no longer outside. Nor is it the same as an odor
which, even after it has passed and vanished into the wind, affects the sense of
smell--which then conveys into the memory the image of the smell which is what we
recall and re-create; or like food which, once in the belly, surely now has no taste
and yet does have a kind of taste in the memory; or like anything that is felt by the
body through the sense of touch, which still remains as an image in the memory
after the external object is removed. For these things themselves are not put into
the memory. Only the images of them are gathered with a marvelous quickness and
stored, as it were, in the most wonderful filing system, and are thence produced in a
marvelous way by the act of remembering.
CHAPTER X
17. But now when I hear that there are three kinds of questions--“Whether a
thing is? What it is? Of what kind it is?”--I do indeed retain the images of the
sounds of which these words are composed and I know that those sounds pass
through the air with a noise and now no longer exist. But the things themselves
which were signified by those sounds I never could reach by any sense of the body
nor see them at all except by my mind. And what I have stored in my memory was
not their signs, but the things signified.
How they got into me, let them tell who can. For I examine all the gates of my
flesh, but I cannot find the door by which any of them entered. For the eyes say, “If
they were colored, we reported that.” The ears say, “If they gave any sound, we gave
notice of that.” The nostrils say, “If they smell, they passed in by us.” The sense of
taste says, “If they have no flavor, don’t ask me about them.” The sense of touch
says, “If it had no bodily mass, I did not touch it, and if I never touched it, I gave no
report about it.”
Whence and how did these things enter into my memory? I do not know. For
when I first learned them, it was not that I believed them on the credit of another
man’s mind, but I recognized them in my own; and I saw them as true, took them
into my mind and laid them up, so to say, where I could get at them again whenever
I willed. There they were, then, even before I learned them, but they were not in my
memory. Where were they, then? How does it come about that when they were
spoken of, I could acknowledge them and say, “So it is, it is true,” unless they were
already in the memory, though far back and hidden, as it were, in the more secret
caves, so that unless they had been drawn out by the teaching of another person, I
should perhaps never have been able to think of them at all?
CHAPTER XI
18. Thus we find that learning those things whose images we do not take in
by our senses, but which we intuit within ourselves without images and as they
actually are, is nothing else except the gathering together of those same things
which the memory already contains--but in an indiscriminate and confused manner-and putting them together by careful observation as they are at hand in the
memory; so that whereas they formerly lay hidden, scattered, or neglected, they
now come easily to present themselves to the mind which is now familiar with them.
And how many things of this sort my memory has stored up, which have already
been discovered and, as I said, laid up for ready reference. These are the things we
may be said to have learned and to know. Yet, if I cease to recall them even for short
intervals of time, they are again so submerged--and slide back, as it were, into the
further reaches of the memory--that they must be drawn out again as if new from
the same place (for there is nowhere else for them to have gone) and must be
collected [cogenda] so that they can become known. In other words, they must be
gathered up [colligenda] from their dispersion. This is where we get the word
cogitate [cogitare]. For cogo [collect] and cogito [to go on collecting] have the same
relation to each other as ago [do] and agito [do frequently], and facio [make] and
factito [make frequently]. But the mind has properly laid claim to this word
[cogitate] so that not everything that is gathered together anywhere, but only what
is collected and gathered together in the mind, is properly said to be “cogitated.”
CHAPTER XII
19. The memory also contains the principles and the unnumbered laws of
numbers and dimensions. None of these has been impressed on the memory by a
physical sense, because they have neither color nor sound, nor taste, nor sense of
touch. I have heard the sound of the words by which these things are signified when
they are discussed: but the sounds are one thing, the things another. For the sounds
are one thing in Greek, another in Latin; but the things themselves are neither
Greek nor Latin nor any other language. I have seen the lines of the craftsmen, the
finest of which are like a spider’s web, but mathematical lines are different. They
are not the images of such things as the eye of my body has showed me. The man
who knows them does so without any cogitation of physical objects whatever, but
intuits them within himself. I have perceived with all the senses of my body the
numbers we use in counting; but the numbers by which we count are far different
from these. They are not the images of these; they simply are. Let the man who does
not see these things mock me for saying them; and I will pity him while he laughs at
me.
CHAPTER XIII
20. All these things I hold in my memory, and I remember how I learned
them. I also remember many things that I have heard quite falsely urged against
them, which, even if they are false, yet it is not false that I have remembered them.
And I also remember that I have distinguished between the truths and the false
objections, and now I see that it is one thing to distinguish these things and another
to remember that I did distinguish them when I have cogitated on them. I
remember, then, both that I have often understood these things and also that I am
now storing away in my memory what I distinguish and comprehend of them so that
later on I may remember just as I understand them now. Therefore, I remember
that I remembered, so that if afterward I call to mind that I once was able to
remember these things it will be through the power of memory that I recall it.
CHAPTER XIV
21. This same memory also contains the feelings of my mind; not in the
manner in which the mind itself experienced them, but very differently according to
a power peculiar to memory. For without being joyous now, I can remember that I
once was joyous, and without being sad, I can recall my past sadness. I can
remember past fears without fear, and former desires without desire. Again, the
contrary happens. Sometimes when I am joyous I remember my past sadness, and
when sad, remember past joy.
This is not to be marveled at as far as the body is concerned; for the mind is
one thing and the body another.338 If, therefore, when I am happy, I recall some
past bodily pain, it is not so strange. But even as this memory is experienced, it is
identical with the mind--as when we tell someone to remember something we say,
“See that you bear this in mind”; and when we forget a thing, we say, “It did not
enter my mind” or “It slipped my mind.” Thus we call memory itself mind.
Since this is so, how does it happen that when I am joyful I can still
remember past sorrow? Thus the mind has joy, and the memory has sorrow; and the
mind is joyful from the joy that is in it, yet the memory is not sad from the sadness
that is in it. Is it possible that the memory does not belong to the mind? Who will
say so? The memory doubtless is, so to say, the belly of the mind: and joy and
sadness are like sweet and bitter food, which when they are committed to the
memory are, so to say, passed into the belly where they can be stored but no longer
tasted. It is ridiculous to consider this an analogy; yet they are not utterly unlike.
22. But look, it is from my memory that I produce it when I say that there are
four basic emotions of the mind: desire, joy, fear, sadness. Whatever kind of analysis
I may be able to make of these, by dividing each into its particular species, and by
defining it, I still find what to say in my memory and it is from my memory that I
draw it out. Yet I am not moved by any of these emotions when I call them to mind
by remembering them. Moreover, before I recalled them and thought about them,
they were there in the memory; and this is how they could be brought forth in
remembrance. Perhaps, therefore, just as food is brought up out of the belly by
338Again, the mind-body dualism typical of the Augustinian tradition. Cf. E. Gilson, The Spirit of
Medieval Philosophy (Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1940), pp. 173-188; and E. Gilson, The
Philosophy of Saint Bonaventure (Sheed & Ward, New York, 1938), ch. XI.
rumination, so also these things are drawn up out of the memory by recall. But why,
then, does not the man who is thinking about the emotions, and is thus recalling
them, feel in the mouth of his reflection the sweetness of joy or the bitterness of
sadness? Is the comparison unlike in this because it is not complete at every point?
For who would willingly speak on these subjects, if as often as we used the term
sadness or fear, we should thereby be compelled to be sad or fearful? And yet we
could never speak of them if we did not find them in our memories, not merely as
the sounds of the names, as their images are impressed on it by the physical senses,
but also the notions of the things themselves--which we did not receive by any gate
of the flesh, but which the mind itself recognizes by the experience of its own
passions, and has entrusted to the memory; or else which the memory itself has
retained without their being entrusted to it.
CHAPTER XV
23. Now whether all this is by means of images or not, who can rightly
affirm? For I name a stone, I name the sun, and those things themselves are not
present to my senses, but their images are present in my memory. I name some
pain of the body, yet it is not present when there is no pain; yet if there were not
some such image of it in my memory, I could not even speak of it, nor should I be
able to distinguish it from pleasure. I name bodily health when I am sound in body,
and the thing itself is indeed present in me. At the same time, unless there were
some image of it in my memory, I could not possibly call to mind what the sound of
this name signified. Nor would sick people know what was meant when health was
named, unless the same image were preserved by the power of memory, even
though the thing itself is absent from the body. I can name the numbers we use in
counting, and it is not their images but themselves that are in my memory. I name
the image of the sun, and this too is in my memory. For I do not recall the image of
that image, but that image itself, for the image itself is present when I remember it.
I name memory and I know what I name. But where do I know it, except in the
memory itself? Is it also present to itself by its image, and not by itself?
CHAPTER XVI
24. When I name forgetfulness, and understand what I mean by the name,
how could I understand it if I did not remember it? And if I refer not to the sound of
the name, but to the thing which the term signifies, how could I know what that
sound signified if I had forgotten what the name means? When, therefore, I
remember memory, then memory is present to itself by itself, but when I remember
forgetfulness then both memory and forgetfulness are present together--the memory
by which I remember the forgetfulness which I remember. But what is forgetfulness
except the privation of memory? How, then, is that present to my memory which,
when it controls my mind, I cannot remember? But if what we remember we store
up in our memory; and if, unless we remembered forgetfulness, we could never
know the thing signified by the term when we heard it--then, forgetfulness is
contained in the memory. It is present so that we do not forget it, but since it is
present, we do forget.
From this it is to be inferred that when we remember forgetfulness, it is not
present to the memory through itself, but through its image; because if forgetfulness
were present through itself, it would not lead us to remember, but only to forget.
Now who will someday work this out? Who can understand how it is?
25. Truly, O Lord, I toil with this and labor in myself. I have become a
troublesome field that requires hard labor and heavy sweat. For we are not now
searching out the tracts of heaven, or measuring the distances of the stars or
inquiring about the weight of the earth. It is I myself--I, the mind--who remember.
This is not much to marvel at, if what I myself am is not far from me. And what is
nearer to me than myself? For see, I am not able to comprehend the force of my own
memory, though I could not even call my own name without it. But what shall I say,
when it is clear to me that I remember forgetfulness? Should I affirm that what I
remember is not in my memory? Or should I say that forgetfulness is in my memory
to the end that I should not forget? Both of these views are most absurd. But what
third view is there? How can I say that the image of forgetfulness is retained by my
memory, and not forgetfulness itself, when I remember it? How can I say this, since
for the image of anything to be imprinted on the memory the thing itself must
necessarily have been present first by which the image could have been imprinted?
Thus I remember Carthage; thus, also, I remember all the other places where I have
been. And I remember the faces of men whom I have seen and things reported by
the other senses. I remember the health or sickness of the body. And when these
objects were present, my memory received images from them so that they remain
present in order for me to see them and reflect upon them in my mind, if I choose to
remember them in their absence. If, therefore, forgetfulness is retained in the
memory through its image and not through itself, then this means that it itself was
once present, so that its image might have been imprinted. But when it was
present, how did it write its image on the memory, since forgetfulness, by its
presence, blots out even what it finds already written there? And yet in some way or
other, even though it is incomprehensible and inexplicable, I am still quite certain
that I also remember forgetfulness, by which we remember that something is
blotted out.
CHAPTER XVII
26. Great is the power of memory. It is a true marvel, O my God, a profound
and infinite multiplicity! And this is the mind, and this I myself am. What, then, am
I, O my God? Of what nature am I? A life various, and manifold, and exceedingly
vast. Behold in the numberless halls and caves, in the innumerable fields and dens
and caverns of my memory, full without measure of numberless kinds of things-present there either through images as all bodies are; or present in the things
themselves as are our thoughts; or by some notion or observation as our emotions
are, which the memory retains even though the mind feels them no longer, as long
as whatever is in the memory is also in the mind--through all these I run and fly to
and fro. I penetrate into them on this side and that as far as I can and yet there is
nowhere any end.
So great is the power of memory, so great the power of life in man whose life
is mortal! What, then, shall I do, O thou my true life, my God? I will pass even
beyond this power of mine that is called memory--I will pass beyond it, that I may
come to thee, O lovely Light. And what art thou saying to me? See, I soar by my
mind toward thee, who remainest above me. I will also pass beyond this power of
mine that is called memory, desiring to reach thee where thou canst be reached, and
wishing to cleave to thee where it is possible to cleave to thee. For even beasts and
birds possess memory, or else they could never find their lairs and nests again, nor
display many other things they know and do by habit. Indeed, they could not even
form their habits except by their memories. I will therefore pass even beyond
memory that I may reach Him who has differentiated me from the four-footed
beasts and the fowls of the air by making me a wiser creature. Thus I will pass
beyond memory; but where shall I find thee, who art the true Good and the
steadfast Sweetness? But where shall I find thee? If I find thee without memory,
then I shall have no memory of thee; and how could I find thee at all, if I do not
remember thee?
CHAPTER XVIII
27. For the woman who lost her small coin339 and searched for it with a light
would never have found it unless she had remembered it. For when it was found,
how could she have known whether it was the same coin, if she had not remembered
it? I remember having lost and found many things, and I have learned this from
that experience: that when I was searching for any of them and was asked: “Is this
it? Is that it?” I answered, “No,” until finally what I was seeking was shown to me.
But if I had not remembered it--whatever it was--even though it was shown to me, I
still would not have found it because I could not have recognized it. And this is the
way it always is when we search for and find anything that is lost. Still, if anything
is accidentally lost from sight--not from memory, as a visible body might be--its
image is retained within, and the thing is searched for until it is restored to sight.
And when the thing is found, it is recognized by the image of it which is within. And
we do not say that we have found what we have lost unless we can recognize it, and
we cannot recognize it unless we remember it. But all the while the thing lost to the
sight was retained in the memory.
CHAPTER XIX
28. But what happens when the memory itself loses something, as when we
forget anything and try to recall it? Where, finally, do we search, but in the memory
itself? And there, if by chance one thing is offered for another, we refuse it until we
meet with what we are looking for; and when we do, we recognize that this is it. But
we could not do this unless we recognized it, nor could we have recognized it unless
we remembered it. Yet we had indeed forgotten it.
Perhaps the whole of it had not slipped out of our memory; but a part was
retained by which the other lost part was sought for, because the memory realized
that it was not operating as smoothly as usual and was being held up by the
crippling of its habitual working; hence, it demanded the restoration of what was
lacking.
For example, if we see or think of some man we know, and, having forgotten
his name, try to recall it--if some other thing presents itself, we cannot tie it into the
effort to remember, because it was not habitually thought of in association with
him. It is consequently rejected, until something comes into the mind on which our
knowledge can rightly rest as the familiar and sought-for object. And where does
this name come back from, save from the memory itself? For even when we
recognize it by another’s reminding us of it, still it is from the memory that this
comes, for we do not believe it as something new; but when we recall it, we admit
that what was said was correct. But if the name had been entirely blotted out of the
mind, we should not be able to recollect it even when reminded of it. For we have
not entirely forgotten anything if we can remember that we have forgotten it. For a
lost notion, one that we have entirely forgotten, we cannot even search for.
339Luke 15:8.
CHAPTER XX
29. How, then, do I seek thee, O Lord? For when I seek thee, my God, I seek a
happy life. I will seek thee that my soul may live.340 For my body lives by my soul,
and my soul lives by thee. How, then, do I seek a happy life, since happiness is not
mine till I can rightly say: “It is enough. This is it.” How do I seek it? Is it by
remembering, as though I had forgotten it and still knew that I had forgotten it? Do
I seek it in longing to learn of it as though it were something unknown, which either
I had never known or had so completely forgotten as not even to remember that I
had forgotten it? Is not the happy life the thing that all desire, and is there anyone
who does not desire it at all?341 But where would they have gotten the knowledge of
it, that they should so desire it? Where have they seen it that they should so love it?
It is somehow true that we have it, but how I do not know.
There is, indeed, a sense in which when anyone has his desire he is happy.
And then there are some who are happy in hope. These are happy in an inferior
degree to those that are actually happy; yet they are better off than those who are
happy neither in actuality nor in hope. But even these, if they had not known
happiness in some degree, would not then desire to be happy. And yet it is most
certain that they do so desire. How they come to know happiness, I cannot tell, but
they have it by some kind of knowledge unknown to me, for I am very much in
doubt as to whether it is in the memory. For if it is in there, then we have been
happy once on a time--either each of us individually or all of us in that man who
first sinned and in whom also we all died and from whom we are all born in misery.
How this is, I do not now ask; but I do ask whether the happy life is in the memory.
For if we did not know it, we should not love it. We hear the name of it, and we all
acknowledge that we desire the thing, for we are not delighted with the name only.
For when a Greek hears it spoken in Latin, he does not feel delighted, for he does
not know what has been spoken. But we are as delighted as he would be in turn if
he heard it in Greek, because the thing itself is neither Greek nor Latin, this
happiness which Greeks and Latins and men of all the other tongues long so
earnestly to obtain. It is, then, known to all; and if all could with one voice be asked
whether they wished to be happy, there is no doubt they would all answer that they
would. And this would not be possible unless the thing itself, which we name
“happiness,” were held in the memory.
CHAPTER XXI
30. But is it the same kind of memory as one who having seen Carthage
remembers it? No, for the happy life is not visible to the eye, since it is not a
physical object. Is it the sort of memory we have for numbers? No, for the man who
has these in his understanding does not keep striving to attain more. Now we know
something about the happy life and therefore we love it, but still we wish to go on
striving for it that we may be happy. Is the memory of happiness, then, something
like the memory of eloquence? No, for although some, when they hear the term
eloquence, call the thing to mind, even if they are not themselves eloquent--and
further, there are many people who would like to be eloquent, from which it follows
that they must know something about it--nevertheless, these people have noticed
through their senses that others are eloquent and have been delighted to observe
340Cf. Isa. 55:3.
341Cf. the early dialogue "On the Happy Life" in Vol. I of The Fathers of the Church (New York,
1948).
this and long to be this way themselves. But they would not be delighted if it were
not some interior knowledge; and they would not desire to be delighted unless they
had been delighted. But as for a happy life, there is no physical perception by which
we experience it in others.
Do we remember happiness, then, as we remember joy? It may be so, for I
remember my joy even when I am sad, just as I remember a happy life when I am
miserable. And I have never, through physical perception, either seen, heard,
smelled, tasted, or touched my joy. But I have experienced it in my mind when I
rejoiced; and the knowledge of it clung to my memory so that I can call it to mind,
sometimes with disdain and at other times with longing, depending on the different
kinds of things I now remember that I rejoiced in. For I have been bathed with a
certain joy even by unclean things, which I now detest and execrate as I call them to
mind. At other times, I call to mind with longing good and honest things, which are
not any longer near at hand, and I am therefore saddened when I recall my former
joy.
31. Where and when did I ever experience my happy life that I can call it to
mind and love it and long for it? It is not I alone or even a few others who wish to be
happy, but absolutely everybody. Unless we knew happiness by a knowledge that is
certain, we should not wish for it with a will which is so certain. Take this example:
If two men were asked whether they wished to serve as soldiers, one of them might
reply that he would, and the other that he would not; but if they were asked
whether they wished to be happy, both of them would unhesitatingly say that they
would. But the first one would wish to serve as a soldier and the other would not
wish to serve, both from no other motive than to be happy. Is it, perhaps, that one
finds his joy in this and another in that? Thus they agree in their wish for
happiness just as they would also agree, if asked, in wishing for joy. Is this joy what
they call a happy life? Although one could choose his joy in this way and another in
that, all have one goal which they strive to attain, namely, to have joy. This joy,
then, being something that no one can say he has not experienced, is therefore
found in the memory and it is recognized whenever the phrase “a happy life” is
heard.
CHAPTER XXII
32. Forbid it, O Lord, put it far from the heart of thy servant, who confesses
to thee--far be it from me to think I am happy because of any and all the joy I have.
For there is a joy not granted to the wicked but only to those who worship thee
thankfully--and this joy thou thyself art. The happy life is this--to rejoice to thee, in
thee, and for thee. This it is and there is no other. But those who think there is
another follow after other joys, and not the true one. But their will is still not moved
except by some image or shadow of joy.
CHAPTER XXIII
33. Is it, then, uncertain that all men wish to be happy, since those who do
not wish to find their joy in thee--which is alone the happy life--do not actually
desire the happy life? Or, is it rather that all desire this, but because “the flesh lusts
against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh,” so that they “prevent you from
doing what you would,” 342 you fall to doing what you are able to do and are content
with that. For you do not want to do what you cannot do urgently enough to make
342Gal. 5:17.
you able to do it.
Now I ask all men whether they would rather rejoice in truth or in falsehood.
They will no more hesitate to answer, “In truth,” than to say that they wish to be
happy. For a happy life is joy in the truth. Yet this is joy in thee, who art the Truth,
O God my Light, “the health of my countenance and my God.”343 All wish for this
happy life; all wish for this life which is the only happy one: joy in the truth is what
all men wish.
I have had experience with many who wished to deceive, but not one who
wished to be deceived.344 Where, then, did they ever know about this happy life,
except where they knew also what the truth is? For they love it, too, since they are
not willing to be deceived. And when they love the happy life, which is nothing else
but joy in the truth, then certainly they also love the truth. And yet they would not
love it if there were not some knowledge of it in the memory.
Why, then, do they not rejoice in it? Why are they not happy? Because they
are so fully preoccupied with other things which do more to make them miserable
than those which would make them happy, which they remember so little about. Yet
there is a little light in men. Let them walk--let them walk in it, lest the darkness
overtake them.
34. Why, then, does truth generate hatred, and why does thy servant who
preaches the truth come to be an enemy to them who also love the happy life, which
is nothing else than joy in the truth--unless it be that truth is loved in such a way
that those who love something else besides her wish that to be the truth which they
do love. Since they are unwilling to be deceived, they are unwilling to be convinced
that they have been deceived. Therefore, they hate the truth for the sake of
whatever it is that they love in place of the truth. They love truth when she shines
on them; and hate her when she rebukes them. And since they are not willing to be
deceived, but do wish to deceive, they love truth when she reveals herself and hate
her when she reveals them. On this account, she will so repay them that those who
are unwilling to be exposed by her she will indeed expose against their will, and yet
will not disclose herself to them.
Thus, thus, truly thus: the human mind so blind and sick, so base and illmannered, desires to lie hidden, but does not wish that anything should be hidden
from it. And yet the opposite is what happens--the mind itself is not hidden from the
truth, but the truth is hidden from it. Yet even so, for all its wretchedness, it still
prefers to rejoice in truth rather than in known falsehoods. It will, then, be happy
only when without other distractions it comes to rejoice in that single Truth through
which all things else are true.
CHAPTER XXIV
35. Behold how great a territory I have explored in my memory seeking thee,
O Lord! And in it all I have still not found thee. Nor have I found anything about
thee, except what I had already retained in my memory from the time I learned of
thee. For where I found Truth, there found I my God, who is the Truth. From the
time I learned this I have not forgotten. And thus since the time I learned of thee,
thou hast dwelt in my memory, and it is there that I find thee whenever I call thee
to remembrance, and delight in thee. These are my holy delights, which thou hast
bestowed on me in thy mercy, mindful of my poverty.
343Ps. 42:11.
344Cf. Enchiridion, VI, 19ff.
CHAPTER XXV
36. But where in my memory dost thou abide, O Lord? Where dost thou dwell
there? What sort of lodging hast thou made for thyself there? What kind of
sanctuary hast thou built for thyself? Thou hast done this honor to my memory to
take up thy abode in it, but I must consider further in what part of it thou dost
abide. For in calling thee to mind, I soared beyond those parts of memory which the
beasts also possess, because I did not find thee there among the images of corporeal
things. From there I went on to those parts where I had stored the remembered
affections of my mind, and I did not find thee there. And I entered into the inmost
seat of my mind, which is in my memory, since the mind remembers itself also--and
thou wast not there. For just as thou art not a bodily image, nor the emotion of a
living creature (such as we feel when we rejoice or are grief-stricken, when we
desire, or fear, or remember, or forget, or anything of that kind), so neither art thou
the mind itself. For thou art the Lord God of the mind and of all these things that
are mutable; but thou abidest immutable over all. Yet thou hast elected to dwell in
my memory from the time I learned of thee. But why do I now inquire about the
part of my memory thou dost dwell in, as if indeed there were separate parts in it?
Assuredly, thou dwellest in it, since I have remembered thee from the time I
learned of thee, and I find thee in my memory when I call thee to mind.
CHAPTER XXVI
37. Where, then, did I find thee so as to be able to learn of thee? For thou
wast not in my memory before I learned of thee. Where, then, did I find thee so as to
be able to learn of thee--save in thyself beyond me.345 Place there is none. We go
“backward” and “forward” and there is no place. Everywhere and at once, O Truth,
thou guidest all who consult thee, and simultaneously answerest all even though
they consult thee on quite different things. Thou answerest clearly, though all do
not hear in clarity. All take counsel of thee on whatever point they wish, though
they do not always hear what they wish. He is thy best servant who does not look to
hear from thee what he himself wills, but who wills rather to will what he hears
from thee.
CHAPTER XXVII
38. Belatedly I loved thee, O Beauty so ancient and so new, belatedly I loved
thee. For see, thou wast within and I was without, and I sought thee out there.
Unlovely, I rushed heedlessly among the lovely things thou hast made. Thou wast
with me, but I was not with thee. These things kept me far from thee; even though
they were not at all unless they were in thee. Thou didst call and cry aloud, and
didst force open my deafness. Thou didst gleam and shine, and didst chase away my
blindness. Thou didst breathe fragrant odors and I drew in my breath; and now I
pant for thee. I tasted, and now I hunger and thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I
burned for thy peace.
CHAPTER XXVIII
39. When I come to be united to thee with all my being, then there will be no
345When he is known at all, God is known as the Self-evident. This is, of course, not a doctrine of
innate ideas but rather of the necessity, and reality, of divine illumination as the dynamic source of
all our knowledge of divine reality. Cf. Coplestone, op. cit., ch. IV, and Cushman, op. cit.
more pain and toil for me, and my life shall be a real life, being wholly filled by thee.
But since he whom thou fillest is the one thou liftest up, I am still a burden to
myself because I am not yet filled by thee. Joys of sorrow contend with sorrows of
joy, and on which side the victory lies I do not know.
Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me; my evil sorrows contend with my good joys,
and on which side the victory lies I do not know. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me.
Woe is me! Behold, I do not hide my wounds. Thou art the Physician, I am the sick
man; thou art merciful, I need mercy. Is not the life of man on earth an ordeal? Who
is he that wishes for vexations and difficulties? Thou commandest them to be
endured, not to be loved. For no man loves what he endures, though he may love to
endure. Yet even if he rejoices to endure, he would prefer that there were nothing
for him to endure. In adversity, I desire prosperity; in prosperity, I fear adversity.
What middle place is there, then, between these two, where human life is not an
ordeal? There is woe in the prosperity of this world; there is woe in the fear of
misfortune; there is woe in the distortion of joy. There is woe in the adversities of
this world--a second woe, and a third, from the desire of prosperity--because
adversity itself is a hard thing to bear and makes shipwreck of endurance. Is not the
life of man upon the earth an ordeal, and that without surcease?
CHAPTER XXIX
40. My whole hope is in thy exceeding great mercy and that alone. Give what
thou commandest and command what thou wilt. Thou commandest continence from
us, and when I knew, as it is said, that no one could be continent unless God gave it
to him, even this was a point of wisdom to know whose gift it was.346 For by
continence we are bound up and brought back together in the One, whereas before
we were scattered abroad among the many.347 For he loves thee too little who loves
along with thee anything else that he does not love for thy sake, O Love, who dost
burn forever and art never quenched. O Love, O my God, enkindle me! Thou
commandest continence; give what thou commandest, and command what thou wilt.
CHAPTER XXX
41. Obviously thou commandest that I should be continent from “the lust of
the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.”348 Thou commandest me to
abstain from fornication, and as for marriage itself, thou hast counseled something
better than what thou dost allow. And since thou gavest it, it was done--even before
I became a minister of thy sacrament. But there still exist in my memory--of which I
have spoken so much--the images of such things as my habits had fixed there. These
things rush into my thoughts with no power when I am awake; but in sleep they
rush in not only so as to give pleasure, but even to obtain consent and what very
closely resembles the deed itself. Indeed, the illusion of the image prevails to such
an extent, in both my soul and my flesh, that the illusion persuades me when
sleeping to what the reality cannot do when I am awake. Am I not myself at such a
time, O Lord my God? And is there so much of a difference between myself awake
and myself in the moment when I pass from waking to sleeping, or return from
sleeping to waking?
Where, then, is the power of reason which resists such suggestions when I am
346Cf. Wis. 8:21.
347Cf. Enneads, VI, 9:4.
3481 John 2:16.
awake--for even if the things themselves be forced upon it I remain unmoved? Does
reason cease when the eyes close? Is it put to sleep with the bodily senses? But in
that case how does it come to pass that even in slumber we often resist, and with
our conscious purposes in mind, continue most chastely in them, and yield no assent
to such allurements? Yet there is at least this much difference: that when it
happens otherwise in dreams, when we wake up, we return to peace of conscience.
And it is by this difference between sleeping and waking that we discover that it
was not we who did it, while we still feel sorry that in some way it was done in us.
42. Is not thy hand, O Almighty God, able to heal all the diseases of my soul
and, by thy more and more abundant grace, to quench even the lascivious motions
of my sleep? Thou wilt increase thy gifts in me more and more, O Lord, that my soul
may follow me to thee, wrenched free from the sticky glue of lust so that it is no
longer in rebellion against itself, even in dreams; that it neither commits nor
consents to these debasing corruptions which come through sensual images and
which result in the pollution of the flesh. For it is no great thing for the Almighty,
who is “able to do . . . more than we can ask or think,” 349 to bring it about that no
such influence--not even one so slight that a nod might restrain it--should afford
gratification to the feelings of a chaste person even when sleeping. This could come
to pass not only in this life but even at my present age. But what I am still in this
way of wickedness I have confessed unto my good Lord, rejoicing with trembling in
what thou hast given me and grieving in myself for that in which I am still
imperfect. I am trusting that thou wilt perfect thy mercies in me, to the fullness of
that peace which both my inner and outward being shall have with thee when death
is swallowed up in victory.350
CHAPTER XXXI
43. There is yet another “evil of the day”351 to which I wish I were sufficient.
By eating and drinking we restore the daily losses of the body until that day when
thou destroyest both food and stomach, when thou wilt destroy this emptiness with
an amazing fullness and wilt clothe this corruptible with an eternal incorruption.
But now the necessity of habit is sweet to me, and against this sweetness must I
fight, lest I be enthralled by it. Thus I carry on a daily war by fasting, constantly
“bringing my body into subjection,”352 after which my pains are banished by
pleasure. For hunger and thirst are actual pain. They consume and destroy like
fever does, unless the medicine of food is at hand to relieve us. And since this
medicine at hand comes from the comfort we receive in thy gifts (by means of which
land and water and air serve our infirmity), even our calamity is called pleasure.
44. This much thou hast taught me: that I should learn to take food as
medicine. But during that time when I pass from the pinch of emptiness to the
contentment of fullness, it is in that very moment that the snare of appetite lies
baited for me. For the passage itself is pleasant; there is no other way of passing
thither, and necessity compels us to pass. And while health is the reason for our
eating and drinking, yet a perilous delight joins itself to them as a handmaid; and
indeed, she tries to take precedence in order that I may want to do for her sake
what I say I want to do for health’s sake. They do not both have the same limit
either. What is sufficient for health is not enough for pleasure. And it is often a
349Eph. 3:20.
3501 Cor. 15:54.
351Cf. Matt. 6:34.
3521 Cor. 9:27.
matter of doubt whether it is the needful care of the body that still calls for food or
whether it is the sensual snare of desire still wanting to be served. In this
uncertainty my unhappy soul rejoices, and uses it to prepare an excuse as a defense.
It is glad that it is not clear as to what is sufficient for the moderation of health, so
that under the pretense of health it may conceal its projects for pleasure. These
temptations I daily endeavor to resist and I summon thy right hand to my help and
cast my perplexities onto thee, for I have not yet reached a firm conclusion in this
matter.
45. I hear the voice of my God commanding: “Let not your heart be
overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness.”353 Drunkenness is far from me.
Thou wilt have mercy that it does not come near me. But “surfeiting” sometimes
creeps upon thy servant. Thou wilt have mercy that it may be put far from me. For
no man can be continent unless thou give it.354 Many things that we pray for thou
givest us, and whatever good we receive before we prayed for it, we receive it from
thee, so that we might afterward know that we did receive it from thee. I never was
a drunkard, but I have known drunkards made into sober men by thee. It was also
thy doing that those who never were drunkards have not been--and likewise, it was
from thee that those who have been might not remain so always. And it was
likewise from thee that both might know from whom all this came.
I heard another voice of thine: “Do not follow your lusts and refrain yourself
from your pleasures.”355 And by thy favor I have also heard this saying in which I
have taken much delight: “Neither if we eat are we the better; nor if we eat not are
we the worse.”356 This is to say that neither shall the one make me to abound, nor
the other to be wretched. I heard still another voice: “For I have learned, in
whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know how to be abased and I know
how to abound. . . . I can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me.”357 See
here a soldier of the heavenly army; not the sort of dust we are. But remember, O
Lord, “that we are dust”358 and that thou didst create man out of the dust,359 and
that he “was lost, and is found.”360 Of course, he [the apostle Paul] could not do all
this by his own power. He was of the same dust--he whom I loved so much and who
spoke of these things through the afflatus of thy inspiration: “I can,” he said, “do all
things through him who strengtheneth me.” Strengthen me, that I too may be able.
Give what thou commandest, and command what thou wilt. This man [Paul]
confesses that he received the gift of grace and that, when he glories, he glories in
the Lord. I have heard yet another voice praying that he might receive. “Take from
me,” he said, “the greediness of the belly.”361 And from this it appears, O my holy
God, that thou dost give it, when what thou commandest to be done is done.
46. Thou hast taught me, good Father, that “to the pure all things are
362
pure” ; but “it is evil for that man who gives offense in eating”363; and that “every
creature of thine is good, and nothing is to be refused if it is received with
353Cf. Luke 21:34.
354Cf. Wis. 8:21.
355Ecclus. 18:30.
3561 Cor. 8:8.
357Phil. 4:11-13.
358Ps. 103:14.
359Cf. Gen. 3:19.
360Luke 15:24.
361Ecclus. 23:6.
362Titus 1:15.
363Rom. 14:20.
thanksgiving” 364; and that “meat does not commend us to God”365; and that “no man
should judge us in meat or in drink.”366 “Let not him who eats despise him who eats
not, and let him that does not eat judge not him who does eat.”367 These things I
have learned, thanks and praise be to thee, O my God and Master, who knockest at
my ears and enlightenest my heart. Deliver me from all temptation!
It is not the uncleanness of meat that I fear, but the uncleanness of an
incontinent appetite. I know that permission was granted Noah to eat every kind of
flesh that was good for food; that Elijah was fed with flesh; that John, blessed with
a wonderful abstinence, was not polluted by the living creatures (that is, the
locusts) on which he fed. And I also know that Esau was deceived by his hungering
after lentils and that David blamed himself for desiring water, and that our King
was tempted not by flesh but by bread. And, thus, the people in the wilderness truly
deserved their reproof, not because they desired meat, but because in their desire
for food they murmured against the Lord.
47. Set down, then, in the midst of these temptations, I strive daily against
my appetite for food and drink. For it is not the kind of appetite I am able to deal
with by cutting it off once for all, and thereafter not touching it, as I was able to do
with fornication. The bridle of the throat, therefore, must be held in the mean
between slackness and tightness. And who, O Lord, is he who is not in some degree
carried away beyond the bounds of necessity? Whoever he is, he is great; let him
magnify thy name. But I am not such a one, “for I am a sinful man.”368 Yet I too
magnify thy name, for he who hath “overcome the world” 369 intercedeth with thee
for my sins, numbering me among the weak members of his body; for thy eyes did
see what was imperfect in him, and in thy book all shall be written down.370
CHAPTER XXXII
48. I am not much troubled by the allurement of odors. When they are absent,
I do not seek them; when they are present, I do not refuse them; and I am always
prepared to go without them. At any rate, I appear thus to myself; it is quite
possible that I am deceived. For there is a lamentable darkness in which my
capabilities are concealed, so that when my mind inquires into itself concerning its
own powers, it does not readily venture to believe itself, because what already is in
it is largely concealed unless experience brings it to light. Thus no man ought to feel
secure in this life, the whole of which is called an ordeal, ordered so that the man
who could be made better from having been worse may not also from having been
better become worse. Our sole hope, our sole confidence, our only assured promise,
is thy mercy.
CHAPTER XXXIII
49. The delights of the ear drew and held me much more powerfully, but thou
didst unbind and liberate me. In those melodies which thy words inspire when sung
with a sweet and trained voice, I still find repose; yet not so as to cling to them, but
3641 Tim. 4:4.
3651 Cor. 8:8.
366Cf. Col. 2:16.
367Rom. 14:3.
368Luke 5:8.
369John 16:33.
370Cf. Ps. 139:16.
always so as to be able to free myself as I wish. But it is because of the words which
are their life that they gain entry into me and strive for a place of proper honor in
my heart; and I can hardly assign them a fitting one. Sometimes, I seem to myself to
give them more respect than is fitting, when I see that our minds are more devoutly
and earnestly inflamed in piety by the holy words when they are sung than when
they are not. And I recognize that all the diverse affections of our spirits have their
appropriate measures in the voice and song, to which they are stimulated by I know
not what secret correlation. But the pleasures of my flesh--to which the mind ought
never to be surrendered nor by them enervated--often beguile me while physical
sense does not attend on reason, to follow her patiently, but having once gained
entry to help the reason, it strives to run on before her and be her leader. Thus in
these things I sin unknowingly, but I come to know it afterward.
50. On the other hand, when I avoid very earnestly this kind of deception, I
err out of too great austerity. Sometimes I go to the point of wishing that all the
melodies of the pleasant songs to which David’s Psalter is adapted should be
banished both from my ears and from those of the Church itself. In this mood, the
safer way seemed to me the one I remember was once related to me concerning
Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria, who required the readers of the psalm to use so
slight an inflection of the voice that it was more like speaking than singing.
However, when I call to mind the tears I shed at the songs of thy Church at
the outset of my recovered faith, and how even now I am moved, not by the singing
but by what is sung (when they are sung with a clear and skillfully modulated
voice), I then come to acknowledge the great utility of this custom. Thus I vacillate
between dangerous pleasure and healthful exercise. I am inclined--though I
pronounce no irrevocable opinion on the subject--to approve of the use of singing in
the church, so that by the delights of the ear the weaker minds may be stimulated
to a devotional mood.371 Yet when it happens that I am more moved by the singing
than by what is sung, I confess myself to have sinned wickedly, and then I would
rather not have heard the singing. See now what a condition I am in! Weep with me,
and weep for me, those of you who can so control your inward feelings that good
results always come forth. As for you who do not act this way at all, such things do
not concern you. But do thou, O Lord, my God, give ear; look and see, and have
mercy upon me; and heal me--thou, in whose sight I am become an enigma to
myself; this itself is my weakness.
CHAPTER XXXIV
51. There remain the delights of these eyes of my flesh, about which I must
make my confession in the hearing of the ears of thy temple, brotherly and pious
ears. Thus I will finish the list of the temptations of carnal appetite which still
assail me--groaning and desiring as I am to be clothed upon with my house from
heaven.372
The eyes delight in fair and varied forms, and bright and pleasing colors. Let
these not take possession of my soul! Rather let God possess it, he who didst make
all these things very good indeed. He is still my good, and not these. The pleasures
of sight affect me all the time I am awake. There is no rest from them given me, as
there is from the voices of melody, which I can occasionally find in silence. For
daylight, that queen of the colors, floods all that we look upon everywhere I go
371Cf. the evidence for Augustine's interest and proficiency in music in his essay De musica, written
a decade earlier.
372Cf. 2 Cor. 5:2.
during the day. It flits about me in manifold forms and soothes me even when I am
busy about other things, not noticing it. And it presents itself so forcibly that if it is
suddenly withdrawn it is looked for with longing, and if it is long absent the mind is
saddened.
52. O Light, which Tobit saw even with his eyes closed in blindness, when he
taught his son the way of life--and went before him himself in the steps of love and
never went astray373; or that Light which Isaac saw when his fleshly “eyes were
dim, so that he could not see”374 because of old age, and it was permitted him
unknowingly to bless his sons, but in the blessing of them to know them; or that
Light which Jacob saw, when he too, blind in old age yet with an enlightened heart,
threw light on the nation of men yet to come--presignified in the persons of his own
sons--and laid his hands mystically crossed upon his grandchildren by Joseph (not
as their father, who saw them from without, but as though he were within them),
and distinguished them aright375: this is the true Light; it is one, and all are one
who see and love it.
But that corporeal light, of which I was speaking, seasons the life of the world
for her blind lovers with a tempting and fatal sweetness. Those who know how to
praise thee for it, “O God, Creator of Us All,” take it up in thy hymn,376 and are not
taken over by it in their sleep. Such a man I desire to be. I resist the seductions of
my eyes, lest my feet be entangled as I go forward in thy way; and I raise my
invisible eyes to thee, that thou wouldst be pleased to “pluck my feet out of the
net.”377 Thou dost continually pluck them out, for they are easily ensnared. Thou
ceasest not to pluck them out, but I constantly remain fast in the snares set all
around me. However, thou who “keepest Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.”378
53. What numberless things there are: products of the various arts and
manufactures in our clothes, shoes, vessels, and all such things; besides such things
as pictures and statuary--and all these far beyond the necessary and moderate use
of them or their significance for the life of piety--which men have added for the
delight of the eye, copying the outward forms of the things they make; but inwardly
forsaking Him by whom they were made and destroying what they themselves have
been made to be!
And I, O my God and my Joy, I also raise a hymn to thee for all these things,
and offer a sacrifice of praise to my Sanctifier, because those beautiful forms which
pass through the medium of the human soul into the artist’s hands come from that
beauty which is above our minds, which my soul sighs for day and night. But the
craftsmen and devotees of these outward beauties discover the norm by which they
judge them from that higher beauty, but not the measure of their use. Still, even if
they do not see it, it is there nevertheless, to guard them from wandering astray,
and to keep their strength for thee, and not dissipate it in delights that pass into
boredom. And for myself, though I can see and understand this, I am still entangled
in my own course with such beauty, but thou wilt rescue me, O Lord, thou wilt
rescue me, “for thy loving-kindness is before my eyes.”379 For I am captivated in my
weakness but thou in thy mercy dost rescue me: sometimes without my knowing it,
373Cf. Tobit, chs. 2 to 4.
374Gen. 27:1; cf. Augustine's Sermon IV, 20:21f.
375Cf. Gen., ch. 48.
376Again, Ambrose, Deus, creator omnium, an obvious favorite of Augustine's. See above, Bk. IX, Ch.
XII, 32.
377Ps. 25:15.
378Ps. 121:4.
379Ps. 26:3.
because I had only lightly fallen; at other times, the rescue is painful because I was
stuck fast.
CHAPTER XXXV
54. Besides this there is yet another form of temptation still more complex in
its peril. For in addition to the fleshly appetite which strives for the gratification of
all senses and pleasures--in which its slaves perish because they separate
themselves from thee--there is also a certain vain and curious longing in the soul,
rooted in the same bodily senses, which is cloaked under the name of knowledge and
learning; not having pleasure in the flesh, but striving for new experiences through
the flesh. This longing--since its origin is our appetite for learning, and since the
sight is the chief of our senses in the acquisition of knowledge--is called in the divine
language “the lust of the eyes.”380 For seeing is a function of the eyes; yet we also
use this word for the other senses as well, when we exercise them in the search for
knowledge. We do not say, “Listen how it glows,” “Smell how it glistens,” “Taste how
it shines,” or “Feel how it flashes,” since all of these are said to be seen. And we do
not simply say, “See how it shines,” which only the eyes can perceive; but we also
say, “See how it sounds, see how it smells, see how it tastes, see how hard it is.”
Thus, as we said before, the whole round of sensory experience is called “the lust of
the eyes” because the function of seeing, in which the eyes have the principal role, is
applied by analogy to the other senses when they are seeking after any kind of
knowledge.
55. From this, then, one can the more clearly distinguish whether it is
pleasure or curiosity that is being pursued by the senses. For pleasure pursues
objects that are beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savory, soft. But curiosity, seeking
new experiences, will even seek out the contrary of these, not with the purpose of
experiencing the discomfort that often accompanies them, but out of a passion for
experimenting and knowledge.
For what pleasure is there in the sight of a lacerated corpse, which makes you
shudder? And yet if there is one lying close by we flock to it, as if to be made sad and
pale. People fear lest they should see such a thing even in sleep, just as they would
if, when awake, someone compelled them to go and see it or if some rumor of its
beauty had attracted them.
This is also the case with the other senses; it would be tedious to pursue a
complete analysis of it. This malady of curiosity is the reason for all those strange
sights exhibited in the theater. It is also the reason why we proceed to search out
the secret powers of nature--those which have nothing to do with our destiny--which
do not profit us to know about, and concerning which men desire to know only for
the sake of knowing. And it is with this same motive of perverted curiosity for
knowledge that we consult the magical arts. Even in religion itself, this prompting
drives us to make trial of God when signs and wonders are eagerly asked of him-not desired for any saving end, but only to make trial of him.
56. In such a wilderness so vast, crammed with snares and dangers, behold
how many of them I have lopped off and cast from my heart, as thou, O God of my
salvation, hast enabled me to do. And yet, when would I dare to say, since so many
things of this sort still buzz around our daily lives--when would I dare to say that no
such motive prompts my seeing or creates a vain curiosity in me? It is true that now
the theaters never attract me, nor do I now care to inquire about the courses of the
stars, and my soul has never sought answers from the departed spirits. All
3801 John 2:16.
sacrilegious oaths I abhor. And yet, O Lord my God, to whom I owe all humble and
singlehearted service, with what subtle suggestion the enemy still influences me to
require some sign from thee! But by our King, and by Jerusalem, our pure and
chaste homeland, I beseech thee that where any consenting to such thoughts is now
far from me, so may it always be farther and farther. And when I entreat thee for
the salvation of any man, the end I aim at is something more than the entreating:
let it be that as thou dost what thou wilt, thou dost also give me the grace willingly
to follow thy lead.
57. Now, really, in how many of the most minute and trivial things my
curiosity is still daily tempted, and who can keep the tally on how often I succumb?
How often, when people are telling idle tales, we begin by tolerating them lest we
should give offense to the sensitive; and then gradually we come to listen willingly! I
do not nowadays go to the circus to see a dog chase a rabbit, but if by chance I pass
such a race in the fields, it quite easily distracts me even from some serious thought
and draws me after it--not that I turn aside with my horse, but with the inclination
of my mind. And unless, by showing me my weakness, thou dost speedily warn me
to rise above such a sight to thee by a deliberate act of thought--or else to despise
the whole thing and pass it by--then I become absorbed in the sight, vain creature
that I am.
How is it that when I am sitting at home a lizard catching flies, or a spider
entangling them as they fly into her webs, oftentimes arrests me? Is the feeling of
curiosity not the same just because these are such tiny creatures? From them I
proceed to praise thee, the wonderful Creator and Disposer of all things; but it is not
this that first attracts my attention. It is one thing to get up quickly and another
thing not to fall--and of both such things my life is full and my only hope is in thy
exceeding great mercy. For when this heart of ours is made the depot of such things
and is overrun by the throng of these abounding vanities, then our prayers are often
interrupted and disturbed by them. Even while we are in thy presence and direct
the voice of our hearts to thy ears, such a great business as this is broken off by the
inroads of I know not what idle thoughts.
CHAPTER XXXVI
58. Shall we, then, also reckon this vain curiosity among the things that are
to be but lightly esteemed? Shall anything restore us to hope except thy complete
mercy since thou hast begun to change us? Thou knowest to what extent thou hast
already changed me, for first of all thou didst heal me of the lust for vindicating
myself, so that thou mightest then forgive all my remaining iniquities and heal all
my diseases, and “redeem my life from corruption and crown me with lovingkindness and tender mercies, and satisfy my desires with good things.”381 It was
thou who didst restrain my pride with thy fear, and bowed my neck to thy “yoke.”382
And now I bear the yoke and it is “light” to me, because thou didst promise it to be
so, and hast made it to be so. And so in truth it was, though I knew it not when I
feared to take it up.
59. But, O Lord--thou who alone reignest without pride, because thou alone
art the true Lord, who hast no Lord--has this third kind of temptation left me, or
can it leave me during this life: the desire to be feared and loved of men, with no
other view than that I may find in it a joy that is no joy? It is, rather, a wretched life
and an unseemly ostentation. It is a special reason why we do not love thee, nor
381Cf. Ps. 103:3-5.
382Cf. Matt. 11:30.
devotedly fear thee. Therefore “thou resistest the proud but givest grace to the
humble.”383 Thou thunderest down on the ambitious designs of the world, and “the
foundations of the hills” tremble.384
And yet certain offices in human society require the officeholder to be loved
and feared of men, and through this the adversary of our true blessedness presses
hard upon us, scattering everywhere his snares of “well done, well done”; so that
while we are eagerly picking them up, we may be caught unawares and split off our
joy from thy truth and fix it on the deceits of men. In this way we come to take
pleasure in being loved and feared, not for thy sake but in thy stead. By such means
as this, the adversary makes men like himself, that he may have them as his own,
not in the harmony of love, but in the fellowship of punishment--the one who
aspired to exalt his throne in the north,385 that in the darkness and the cold men
might have to serve him, mimicking thee in perverse and distorted ways.
But see, O Lord, we are thy little flock. Possess us, stretch thy wings above
us, and let us take refuge under them. Be thou our glory; let us be loved for thy
sake, and let thy word be feared in us. Those who desire to be commended by the
men whom thou condemnest will not be defended by men when thou judgest, nor
will they be delivered when thou dost condemn them. But when--not as a sinner is
praised in the wicked desires of his soul nor when the unrighteous man is blessed in
his unrighteousness--a man is praised for some gift that thou hast given him, and
he is more gratified at the praise for himself than because he possesses the gift for
which he is praised, such a one is praised while thou dost condemn him. In such a
case the one who praised is truly better than the one who was praised. For the gift
of God in man was pleasing to the one, while the other was better pleased with the
gift of man than with the gift of God.
CHAPTER XXXVII
60. By these temptations we are daily tried, O Lord; we are tried unceasingly.
Our daily “furnace” is the human tongue.386 And also in this respect thou
commandest us to be continent. Give what thou commandest and command what
thou wilt. In this matter, thou knowest the groans of my heart and the rivers of my
eyes, for I am not able to know for certain how far I am clean of this plague; and I
stand in great fear of my “secret faults,”387 which thy eyes perceive, though mine do
not. For in respect of the pleasures of my flesh and of idle curiosity, I see how far I
have been able to hold my mind in check when I abstain from them either by
voluntary act of the will or because they simply are not at hand; for then I can
inquire of myself how much more or less frustrating it is to me not to have them.
This is also true about riches, which are sought for in order that they may minister
to one of these three “lusts,” or two, or the whole complex of them. The mind is able
to see clearly if, when it has them, it despises them so that they may be cast aside
and it may prove itself.
But if we desire to test our power of doing without praise, must we then live
wickedly or lead a life so atrocious and abandoned that everyone who knows us will
detest us? What greater madness than this can be either said or conceived? And yet
if praise, both by custom and right, is the companion of a good life and of good
3831 Peter 5:5.
384Cf. Ps. 18:7, 13.
385Cf. Isa. 14:12-14.
386Cf. Prov. 27:21.
387Cf. Ps. 19:12.
works, we should as little forgo its companionship as the good life itself. But unless
a thing is absent I do not know whether I should be contented or troubled at having
to do without it.
61. What is it, then, that I am confessing to thee, O Lord, concerning this sort
of temptation? What else, than that I am delighted with praise, but more with the
truth itself than with praise. For if I were to have any choice whether, if I were mad
or utterly in the wrong, I would prefer to be praised by all men or, if I were steadily
and fully confident in the truth, would prefer to be blamed by all, I see which I
should choose. Yet I wish I were unwilling that the approval of others should add
anything to my joy for any good I have. Yet I admit that it does increase it; and,
more than that, dispraise diminishes it. Then, when I am disturbed over this
wretchedness of mine, an excuse presents itself to me, the value of which thou
knowest, O God, for it renders me uncertain. For since it is not only continence that
thou hast enjoined on us--that is, what things to hold back our love from--but
righteousness as well--that is, what to bestow our love upon--and hast wished us to
love not only thee, but also our neighbor, it often turns out that when I am gratified
by intelligent praise I seem to myself to be gratified by the competence or insight of
my neighbor; or, on the other hand, I am sorry for the defect in him when I hear him
dispraise either what he does not understand or what is good. For I am sometimes
grieved at the praise I get, either when those things that displease me in myself are
praised in me, or when lesser and trifling goods are valued more highly than they
should be. But, again, how do I know whether I feel this way because I am unwilling
that he who praises me should differ from me concerning myself not because I am
moved with any consideration for him, but because the good things that please me
in myself are more pleasing to me when they also please another? For in a way, I
am not praised when my judgment of myself is not praised, since either those things
which are displeasing to me are praised, or those things which are less pleasing to
me are more praised. Am I not, then, quite uncertain of myself in this respect?
62. Behold, O Truth, it is in thee that I see that I ought not to be moved at my
own praises for my own sake, but for the sake of my neighbor’s good. And whether
this is actually my way, I truly do not know. On this score I know less of myself
than thou dost. I beseech thee now, O my God, to reveal myself to me also, that I
may confess to my brethren, who are to pray for me in those matters where I find
myself weak.
Let me once again examine myself the more diligently. If, in my own praise, I
am moved with concern for my neighbor, why am I less moved if some other man is
unjustly dispraised than when it happens to me? Why am I more irritated at that
reproach which is cast on me than at one which is, with equal injustice, cast upon
another in my presence? Am I ignorant of this also? Or is it still true that I am
deceiving myself, and do not keep the truth before thee in my heart and tongue? Put
such madness far from me, O Lord, lest my mouth be to me “the oil of sinners, to
anoint my head.”388
CHAPTER XXXVIII
63. “I am needy and poor.”389 Still, I am better when in secret groanings I
displease myself and seek thy mercy until what is lacking in me is renewed and
made complete for that peace which the eye of the proud does not know. The reports
that come from the mouth and from actions known to men have in them a most
388Cf. Ps. 141:5.
389Ps. 109:22.
perilous temptation to the love of praise. This love builds up a certain complacency
in one’s own excellency, and then goes around collecting solicited compliments. It
tempts me, even when I inwardly reprove myself for it, and this precisely because it
is reproved. For a man may often glory vainly in the very scorn of vainglory--and in
this case it is not any longer the scorn of vainglory in which he glories, for he does
not truly despise it when he inwardly glories in it.
CHAPTER XXXIX
64. Within us there is yet another evil arising from the same sort of
temptation. By it they become empty who please themselves in themselves,
although they do not please or displease or aim at pleasing others. But in pleasing
themselves they displease thee very much, not merely taking pleasure in things
that are not good as if they were good, but taking pleasure in thy good things as if
they were their own; or even as if they were thine but still as if they had received
them through their own merit; or even as if they had them through thy grace, still
without this grace with their friends, but as if they envied that grace to others. In
all these and similar perils and labors, thou perceivest the agitation of my heart,
and I would rather feel my wounds being cured by thee than not inflicted by me on
myself.
CHAPTER XL
65. Where hast thou not accompanied me, O Truth, teaching me both what to
avoid and what to desire, when I have submitted to thee what I could understand
about matters here below, and have sought thy counsel about them?
With my external senses I have viewed the world as I was able and have
noticed the life which my body derives from me and from these senses of mine. From
that stage I advanced inwardly into the recesses of my memory--the manifold
chambers of my mind, marvelously full of unmeasured wealth. And I reflected on
this and was afraid, and could understand none of these things without thee and
found thee to be none of them. Nor did I myself discover these things--I who went
over them all and labored to distinguish and to value everything according to its
dignity, accepting some things upon the report of my senses and questioning about
others which I thought to be related to my inner self, distinguishing and numbering
the reporters themselves; and in that vast storehouse of my memory, investigating
some things, depositing other things, taking out still others. Neither was I myself
when I did this--that is, that ability of mine by which I did it--nor was it thou, for
thou art that never-failing light from which I took counsel about them all; whether
they were what they were, and what was their real value. In all this I heard thee
teaching and commanding me. And this I often do--and this is a delight to me--and
as far as I can get relief from my necessary duties, I resort to this kind of pleasure.
But in all these things which I review when I consult thee, I still do not find a
secure place for my soul save in thee, in whom my scattered members may be
gathered together and nothing of me escape from thee. And sometimes thou
introducest me to a most rare and inward feeling, an inexplicable sweetness. If this
were to come to perfection in me I do not know to what point life might not then
arrive. But still, by these wretched weights of mine, I relapse into these common
things, and am sucked in by my old customs and am held. I sorrow much, yet I am
still closely held. To this extent, then, the burden of habit presses us down. I can
exist in this fashion but I do not wish to do so. In that other way I wish I were, but
cannot be--in both ways I am wretched.
CHAPTER XLI
66. And now I have thus considered the infirmities of my sins, under the
headings of the three major “lusts,” and I have called thy right hand to my aid. For
with a wounded heart I have seen thy brightness, and having been beaten back I
cried: “Who can attain to it? I am cut off from before thy eyes.”390 Thou art the
Truth, who presidest over all things, but I, because of my greed, did not wish to lose
thee. But still, along with thee, I wished also to possess a lie--just as no one wishes
to lie in such a way as to be ignorant of what is true. By this I lost thee, for thou wilt
not condescend to be enjoyed along with a lie.
CHAPTER XLII
67. Whom could I find to reconcile me to thee? Should I have approached the
angels? What kind of prayer? What kind of rites? Many who were striving to return
to thee and were not able of themselves have, I am told, tried this and have fallen
into a longing for curious visions and deserved to be deceived. Being exalted, they
sought thee in their pride of learning, and they thrust themselves forward rather
than beating their breasts.391 And so by a likeness of heart, they drew to themselves
the princes of the air,392 their conspirators and companions in pride, by whom they
were deceived by the power of magic. Thus they sought a mediator by whom they
might be cleansed, but there was none. For the mediator they sought was the devil,
disguising himself as an angel of light.393 And he allured their proud flesh the more
because he had no fleshly body.
They were mortal and sinful, but thou, O Lord, to whom they arrogantly
sought to be reconciled, art immortal and sinless. But a mediator between God and
man ought to have something in him like God and something in him like man, lest
in being like man he should be far from God, or if only like God he should be far
from man, and so should not be a mediator. That deceitful mediator, then, by whom,
by thy secret judgment, human pride deserves to be deceived, had one thing in
common with man, that is, his sin. In another respect, he would seem to have
something in common with God, for not being clothed with the mortality of the
flesh, he could boast that he was immortal. But since “the wages of sin is death,”394
what he really has in common with men is that, together with them, he is
condemned to death.
CHAPTER XLIII
68. But the true Mediator, whom thou in thy secret mercy hast revealed to
the humble, and hast sent to them so that through his example they also might
learn the same humility--that “Mediator between God and man, the man Christ
Jesus,”395 appeared between mortal sinners and the immortal Just One. He was
mortal as men are mortal; he was righteous as God is righteous; and because the
reward of righteousness is life and peace, he could, through his righteousness united
with God, cancel the death of justified sinners, which he was willing to have in
390Ps. 31:22.
391Cf. the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican, Luke 18:9-14.
392Cf. Eph. 2:2.
3932 Cor. 11:14.
394Rom. 6:23.
3951 Tim. 2:5.
common with them. Hence he was manifested to holy men of old, to the end that
they might be saved through faith in his Passion to come, even as we through faith
in his Passion which is past. As man he was Mediator, but as the Word he was not
something in between the two; because he was equal to God, and God with God,
and, with the Holy Spirit, one God.
69. How hast thou loved us, O good Father, who didst not spare thy only Son,
but didst deliver him up for us wicked ones!396 How hast thou loved us, for whom he
who did not count it robbery to be equal with thee “became obedient unto death,
even the death of the cross”397! He alone was “free among the dead.”398 He alone
had power to lay down his life and power to take it up again, and for us he became
to thee both Victor and Victim; and Victor because he was the Victim. For us, he
was to thee both Priest and Sacrifice, and Priest because he was the Sacrifice. Out
of slaves, he maketh us thy sons, because he was born of thee and did serve us.
Rightly, then, is my hope fixed strongly on him, that thou wilt “heal all my
diseases”399 through him, who sitteth at thy right hand and maketh intercession for
us.400 Otherwise I should utterly despair. For my infirmities are many and great;
indeed, they are very many and very great. But thy medicine is still greater.
Otherwise, we might think that thy word was removed from union with man, and
despair of ourselves, if it had not been that he was “made flesh and dwelt among
us.”401
70. Terrified by my sins and the load of my misery, I had resolved in my heart
and considered flight into the wilderness. But thou didst forbid me, and thou didst
strengthen me, saying that “since Christ died for all, they who live should not
henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him who died for them.”402 Behold, O
Lord, I cast all my care on thee, that I may live and “behold wondrous things out of
thy law.” 403 Thou knowest my incompetence and my infirmities; teach me and heal
me. Thy only Son--he “in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and
knowledge” 404--hath redeemed me with his blood. Let not the proud speak evil of
me, because I keep my ransom before my mind, and eat and drink and share my
food and drink. For, being poor, I desire to be satisfied from him, together with
those who eat and are satisfied: “and they shall praise the Lord that seek Him.”405
396Cf. Rom. 8:32.
397Phil. 2:6-8.
398Cf. Ps. 88:5; see Ps. 87:6 (Vulgate).
399Ps. 103:3.
400Cf. Rom. 8:34.
401John 1:14.
4022 Cor. 5:15.
403Ps. 119:18.
404Col. 2:3.
405Cf. Ps. 21:27 (Vulgate).
BOOK ELEVEN
The eternal Creator and the Creation in time. Augustine ties together his memory of
his past life, his present experience, and his ardent desire to comprehend the mystery
of creation. This leads him to the questions of the mode and time of creation. He
ponders the mode of creation and shows that it was de nihilo and involved no
alteration in the being of God. He then considers the question of the beginning of the
world and time and shows that time and creation are cotemporal. But what is time?
To this Augustine devotes a brilliant analysis of the subjectivity of time and the
relation of all temporal process to the abiding eternity of God. From this, he prepares
to turn to a detailed interpretation of Gen. 1:1, 2.
CHAPTER I
1. Is it possible, O Lord, that, since thou art in eternity, thou art ignorant of
what I am saying to thee? Or, dost thou see in time an event at the time it occurs? If
not, then why am I recounting such a tale of things to thee? Certainly not in order
to acquaint thee with them through me; but, instead, that through them I may stir
up my own love and the love of my readers toward thee, so that all may say, “Great
is the Lord and greatly to be praised.” I have said this before406 and will say it
again: “For love of thy love I do it.” So also we pray--and yet Truth tells us, “Your
Father knoweth what things you need before you ask him.”407 Consequently, we lay
bare our feelings before thee, that, through our confessing to thee our plight and thy
mercies toward us, thou mayest go on to free us altogether, as thou hast already
begun; and that we may cease to be wretched in ourselves and blessed in thee--since
thou hast called us to be poor in spirit, meek, mourners, hungering and athirst for
righteousness, merciful and pure in heart.408 Thus I have told thee many things, as
I could find ability and will to do so, since it was thy will in the first place that I
should confess to thee, O Lord my God--for “Thou art good and thy mercy endureth
forever.”409
CHAPTER II
2. But how long would it take for the voice of my pen to tell enough of thy
exhortations and of all thy terrors and comforts and leadings by which thou didst
bring me to preach thy Word and to administer thy sacraments to thy people? And
even if I could do this sufficiently, the drops of time410 are very precious to me and I
have for a long time been burning with the desire to meditate on thy law, and to
confess in thy presence my knowledge and ignorance of it--from the first streaks of
thy light in my mind and the remaining darkness, until my weakness shall be
swallowed up in thy strength. And I do not wish to see those hours drained into
anything else which I can find free from the necessary care of the body, the exercise
406In the very first sentence of Confessions, Bk. I, Ch. I. Here we have a basic and recurrent motif of
the Confessions from beginning to end: the celebration and praise of the greatness and goodness of
God--Creator and Redeemer. The repetition of it here connects this concluding section of the
Confessions, Bks. XI-XIII, with the preceding part.
407Matt. 6:8.
408The "virtues" of the Beatitudes, the reward for which is blessedness; cf. Matt. 5:1-11.
409Ps. 118:1; cf. Ps. 136.
410An interesting symbol of time's ceaseless passage; the reference is to a water clock (clepsydra).
of the mind, and the service we owe to our fellow men--and what we give even if we
do not owe it.
3. O Lord my God, hear my prayer and let thy mercy attend my longing. It
does not burn for itself alone but longs as well to serve the cause of fraternal love.
Thou seest in my heart that this is so. Let me offer the service of my mind and my
tongue--and give me what I may in turn offer back to thee. For “I am needy and
poor”; thou art rich to all who call upon thee--thou who, in thy freedom from care,
carest for us. Trim away from my lips, inwardly and outwardly, all rashness and
lying. Let thy Scriptures be my chaste delight. Let me not be deceived in them, nor
deceive others from them. O Lord, hear and pity! O Lord my God, light of the blind,
strength of the weak--and also the light of those who see and the strength of the
strong--hearken to my soul and hear it crying from the depths.411 Unless thy ears
attend us even in the depths, where should we go? To whom should we cry?
“Thine is the day and the night is thine as well.”412 At thy bidding the
moments fly by. Grant me in them, then, an interval for my meditations on the
hidden things of thy law, nor close the door of thy law against us who knock. Thou
hast not willed that the deep secrets of all those pages should have been written in
vain. Those forests are not without their stags which keep retired within them,
ranging and walking and feeding, lying down and ruminating.413 Perfect me, O
Lord, and reveal their secrets to me. Behold, thy voice is my joy; thy voice surpasses
in abundance of delights. Give me what I love, for I do love it. And this too is thy
gift. Abandon not thy gifts and despise not thy “grass” which thirsts for thee.414 Let
me confess to thee everything that I shall have found in thy books and “let me hear
the voice of thy praise.” 415 Let me drink from thee and “consider the wondrous
things out of thy law”416--from the very beginning, when thou madest heaven and
earth, and thenceforward to the everlasting reign of thy Holy City with thee.
4. O Lord, have mercy on me and hear my petition. For my prayer is not for
earthly things, neither gold nor silver and precious stones, nor gorgeous apparel,
nor honors and power, nor fleshly pleasures, nor of bodily necessities in this life of
our pilgrimage: all of these things are “added” to those who seek thy Kingdom and
thy righteousness.417
Observe, O God, from whence comes my desire. The unrighteous have told me
of delights but not such as those in thy law, O Lord. Behold, this is the spring of my
desire. See, O Father, look and see--and approve! Let it be pleasing in thy mercy’s
sight that I should find favor with thee--that the secret things of thy Word may be
opened to me when I knock. I beg this of thee by our Lord Jesus Christ, thy Son, the
Man of thy right hand, the Son of Man; whom thou madest strong for thy purpose as
Mediator between thee and us; through whom thou didst seek us when we were not
seeking thee, but didst seek us so that we might seek thee; thy Word, through whom
thou madest all things, and me among them; thy only Son, through whom thou hast
called thy faithful people to adoption, and me among them. I beseech it of thee
through him who sitteth at thy right hand and maketh intercession for us, “in whom
are hid all treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”418 It is he I seek in thy books.
411Cf. Ps. 130:1, De profundis.
412Ps. 74:16.
413This metaphor is probably from Ps. 29:9.
414A repetition of the metaphor above, Bk. IX, Ch. VII, 16.
415Ps. 26:7.
416Ps. 119:18.
417Cf. Matt. 6:33.
418Col. 2:3.
Moses wrote of him. He tells us so himself; the Truth tells us so.
CHAPTER III
5. Let me hear and understand how in the beginning thou madest heaven and
earth.419 Moses wrote of this; he wrote and passed on--moving from thee to thee-and he is now no longer before me. If he were, I would lay hold on him and ask him
and entreat him solemnly that in thy name he would open out these things to me,
and I would lend my bodily ears to the sounds that came forth out of his mouth. If,
however, he spoke in the Hebrew language, the sounds would beat on my senses in
vain, and nothing would touch my mind; but if he spoke in Latin, I would
understand what he said. But how should I then know whether what he said was
true? If I knew even this much, would it be that I knew it from him? Indeed, within
me, deep inside the chambers of my thought, Truth itself--neither Hebrew, nor
Greek, nor Latin, nor barbarian, without any organs of voice and tongue, without
the sound of syllables--would say, “He speaks the truth,” and I should be assured by
this. Then I would confidently say to that man of thine, “You speak the truth.” 420
However, since I cannot inquire of Moses, I beseech thee, O Truth, from whose
fullness he spoke truth; I beseech thee, my God, forgive my sins, and as thou gavest
thy servant the gift to speak these things, grant me also the gift to understand
them.
CHAPTER IV
6. Look around; there are the heaven and the earth. They cry aloud that they
were made, for they change and vary. Whatever there is that has not been made,
and yet has being, has nothing in it that was not there before. This having
something not already existent is what it means to be changed and varied. Heaven
and earth thus speak plainly that they did not make themselves: “We are, because
we have been made; we did not exist before we came to be so that we could have
made ourselves!” And the voice with which they speak is simply their visible
presence. It was thou, O Lord, who madest these things. Thou art beautiful; thus
they are beautiful. Thou art good, thus they are good. Thou art; thus they are. But
they are not as beautiful, nor as good, nor as truly real as thou their Creator art.
Compared with thee, they are neither beautiful nor good, nor do they even exist.
These things we know, thanks be to thee. Yet our knowledge is ignorance when it is
compared with thy knowledge.
CHAPTER V
7. But how didst thou make the heaven and the earth, and what was the tool
of such a mighty work as thine? For it was not like a human worker fashioning body
from body, according to the fancy of his mind, able somehow or other to impose on it
a form which the mind perceived in itself by its inner eye (yet how should even he be
able to do this, if thou hadst not made that mind?). He imposes the form on
419Augustine was profoundly stirred, in mind and heart, by the great mystery of creation and the
Scriptural testimony about it. In addition to this long and involved analysis of time and creation
which follows here, he returned to the story in Genesis repeatedly: e.g., De Genesi contra Manicheos;
De Genesi ad litteram, liber imperfectus (both written before the Confessions); De Genesi ad litteram,
libri XII and De civitate Dei, XI-XII (both written after the Confessions).
420The final test of truth, for Augustine, is self-evidence and the final source of truth is the
indwelling Logos.
something already existing and having some sort of being, such as clay, or stone or
wood or gold or such like (and where would these things come from if thou hadst not
furnished them?). For thou madest his body for the artisan, and thou madest the
mind which directs the limbs; thou madest the matter from which he makes
anything; thou didst create the capacity by which he understands his art and sees
within his mind what he may do with the things before him; thou gavest him his
bodily sense by which, as if he had an interpreter, he may communicate from mind
to matter what he proposes to do and report back to his mind what has been done,
that the mind may consult with the Truth which presideth over it as to whether
what is done is well done.
All these things praise thee, the Creator of them all. But how didst thou
make them? How, O God, didst thou make the heaven and earth? For truly, neither
in heaven nor on earth didst thou make heaven and earth--nor in the air nor in the
waters, since all of these also belong to the heaven and the earth. Nowhere in the
whole world didst thou make the whole world, because there was no place where it
could be made before it was made. And thou didst not hold anything in thy hand
from which to fashion the heaven and the earth,421 for where couldst thou have
gotten what thou hadst not made in order to make something with it? Is there,
indeed, anything at all except because thou art? Thus thou didst speak and they
were made, 422 and by thy Word thou didst make them all.
CHAPTER VI
8. But how didst thou speak? Was it in the same manner in which the voice
came from the cloud saying, “This is my beloved Son”423? For that voice sounded
forth and died away; it began and ended. The syllables sounded and passed away,
the second after the first, the third after the second, and thence in order, till the
very last after all the rest; and silence after the last. From this it is clear and plain
that it was the action of a creature, itself in time, which sounded that voice, obeying
thy eternal will. And what these words were which were formed at that time the
outer ear conveyed to the conscious mind, whose inner ear lay attentively open to
thy eternal Word. But it compared those words which sounded in time with thy
eternal word sounding in silence and said: “This is different; quite different! These
words are far below me; they are not even real, for they fly away and pass, but the
Word of my God remains above me forever.” If, then, in words that sound and fade
away thou didst say that heaven and earth should be made, and thus madest
heaven and earth, then there was already some kind of corporeal creature before
heaven and earth by whose motions in time that voice might have had its
occurrence in time. But there was nothing corporeal before the heaven and the
earth; or if there was, then it is certain that already, without a time-bound voice,
thou hadst created whatever it was out of which thou didst make the time-bound
voice by which thou didst say, “Let the heaven and the earth be made!” For
whatever it was out of which such a voice was made simply did not exist at all until
it was made by thee. Was it decreed by thy Word that a body might be made from
which such words might come?
421Cf. the notion of creation in Plato's Timaeus (29D-30C; 48E-50C), in which the Demiurgos
(craftsman) fashions the universe from pre-existent matter (το υποδοχη) and imposes as much form
as the Receptacle will receive. The notion of the world fashioned from pre-existent matter of some
sort was a universal idea in Greco-Roman cosmology.
422Cf. Ps. 33:9.
423Matt. 3:17.
CHAPTER VII
9. Thou dost call us, then, to understand the Word--the God who is God with
thee--which is spoken eternally and by which all things are spoken eternally. For
what was first spoken was not finished, and then something else spoken until the
whole series was spoken; but all things, at the same time and forever. For,
otherwise, we should have time and change and not a true eternity, nor a true
immortality.
This I know, O my God, and I give thanks. I know, I confess to thee, O Lord,
and whoever is not ungrateful for certain truths knows and blesses thee along with
me. We know, O Lord, this much we know: that in the same proportion as anything
is not what it was, and is what it was not, in that very same proportion it passes
away or comes to be. But there is nothing in thy Word that passes away or returns
to its place; for it is truly immortal and eternal. And, therefore, unto the Word
coeternal with thee, at the same time and always thou sayest all that thou sayest.
And whatever thou sayest shall be made is made, and thou makest nothing
otherwise than by speaking. Still, not all the things that thou dost make by
speaking are made at the same time and always.
CHAPTER VIII
10. Why is this, I ask of thee, O Lord my God? I see it after a fashion, but I do
not know how to express it, unless I say that everything that begins to be and then
ceases to be begins and ceases when it is known in thy eternal Reason that it ought
to begin or cease--in thy eternal Reason where nothing begins or ceases. And this is
thy Word, which is also “the Beginning,” because it also speaks to us.424 Thus, in the
gospel, he spoke through the flesh; and this sounded in the outward ears of men so
that it might be believed and sought for within, and so that it might be found in the
eternal Truth, in which the good and only Master teacheth all his disciples.425
There, O Lord, I hear thy voice, the voice of one speaking to me, since he who
teacheth us speaketh to us. But he that doth not teach us doth not really speak to us
even when he speaketh. Yet who is it that teacheth us unless it be the Truth
immutable? For even when we are instructed by means of the mutable creation, we
are thereby led to the Truth immutable. There we learn truly as we stand and hear
him, and we rejoice greatly “because of the bridegroom’s voice,” 426 restoring us to
the source whence our being comes. And therefore, unless the Beginning remained
immutable, there would then not be a place to which we might return when we had
wandered away. But when we return from error, it is through our gaining
knowledge that we return. In order for us to gain knowledge he teacheth us, since
he is the Beginning, and speaketh to us.
CHAPTER IX
11. In this Beginning, O God, thou hast made heaven and earth--through thy
Word, thy Son, thy Power, thy Wisdom, thy Truth: all wondrously speaking and
wondrously creating. Who shall comprehend such things and who shall tell of it?
What is it that shineth through me and striketh my heart without injury, so that I
both shudder and burn? I shudder because I am unlike it; I burn because I am like
424Cf. the Vulgate of John 8:25.
425Cf. Augustine's emphasis on Christ as true Teacher in De Magistro.
426Cf. John 3:29.
it. It is Wisdom itself that shineth through me, clearing away my fog, which so
readily overwhelms me so that I faint in it, in the darkness and burden of my
punishment. For my strength is brought down in neediness, so that I cannot endure
even my blessings until thou, O Lord, who hast been gracious to all my iniquities,
also healest all my infirmities--for it is thou who “shalt redeem my life from
corruption, and crown me with loving-kindness and tender mercy, and shalt satisfy
my desire with good things so that my youth shall be renewed like the eagle’s.”427
For by this hope we are saved, and through patience we await thy promises. Let
him that is able hear thee speaking to his inner mind. I will cry out with confidence
because of thy own oracle, “How wonderful are thy works, O Lord; in wisdom thou
hast made them all.”428 And this Wisdom is the Beginning, and in that Beginning
thou hast made heaven and earth.
CHAPTER X
12. Now, are not those still full of their old carnal nature429 who ask us:
“What was God doing before he made heaven and earth? For if he was idle,” they
say, “and doing nothing, then why did he not continue in that state forever--doing
nothing, as he had always done? If any new motion has arisen in God, and a new
will to form a creature, which he had never before formed, how can that be a true
eternity in which an act of will occurs that was not there before? For the will of God
is not a created thing, but comes before the creation--and this is true because
nothing could be created unless the will of the Creator came before it. The will of
God, therefore, pertains to his very Essence. Yet if anything has arisen in the
Essence of God that was not there before, then that Essence cannot truly be called
eternal. But if it was the eternal will of God that the creation should come to be,
why, then, is not the creation itself also from eternity?” 430
CHAPTER XI
13. Those who say these things do not yet understand thee, O Wisdom of God,
O Light of souls. They do not yet understand how the things are made that are
made by and in thee. They endeavor to comprehend eternal things, but their heart
still flies about in the past and future motions of created things, and is still
unstable. Who shall hold it and fix it so that it may come to rest for a little; and
then, by degrees, glimpse the glory of that eternity which abides forever; and then,
comparing eternity with the temporal process in which nothing abides, they may see
that they are incommensurable? They would see that a long time does not become
long, except from the many separate events that occur in its passage, which cannot
be simultaneous. In the Eternal, on the other hand, nothing passes away, but the
whole is simultaneously present. But no temporal process is wholly simultaneous.
Therefore, let it431 see that all time past is forced to move on by the incoming future;
427Cf. Ps. 103:4, 5 (mixed text).
428Ps. 104:24.
429Pleni vetustatis suae. In Sermon CCLXVII, 2 (PL 38, c. 1230), Augustine has a similar usage.
Speaking of those who pour new wine into old containers, he says: Carnalitas vetustas est, gratia
novitas est, "Carnality is the old nature; grace is the new"; cf. Matt. 9:17.
430The notion of the eternity of this world was widely held in Greek philosophy, in different versions,
and was incorporated into the Manichean rejection of the Christian doctrine of creatio ex nihilo
which Augustine is citing here. He returns to the question, and his answer to it, again in De civitate
Dei, XI, 4-8.
431The unstable "heart" of those who confuse time and eternity.
that all the future follows from the past; and that all, past and future, is created
and issues out of that which is forever present. Who will hold the heart of man that
it may stand still and see how the eternity which always stands still is itself neither
future nor past but expresses itself in the times that are future and past? Can my
hand do this, or can the hand of my mouth bring about so difficult a thing even by
persuasion?
CHAPTER XII
14. How, then, shall I respond to him who asks, “What was God doing before
he made heaven and earth?” I do not answer, as a certain one is reported to have
done facetiously (shrugging off the force of the question). “He was preparing hell,”
he said, “for those who pry too deep.” It is one thing to see the answer; it is another
to laugh at the questioner--and for myself I do not answer these things thus. More
willingly would I have answered, “I do not know what I do not know,” than cause
one who asked a deep question to be ridiculed--and by such tactics gain praise for a
worthless answer.
Rather, I say that thou, our God, art the Creator of every creature. And if in
the term “heaven and earth” every creature is included, I make bold to say further:
“Before God made heaven and earth, he did not make anything at all. For if he did,
what did he make unless it were a creature?” I do indeed wish that I knew all that I
desire to know to my profit as surely as I know that no creature was made before
any creature was made.
CHAPTER XIII
15. But if the roving thought of someone should wander over the images of
past time, and wonder that thou, the Almighty God, the All-creating and Allsustaining, the Architect of heaven and earth, didst for ages unnumbered abstain
from so great a work before thou didst actually do it, let him awake and consider
that he wonders at illusions. For in what temporal medium could the unnumbered
ages that thou didst not make pass by, since thou art the Author and Creator of all
the ages? Or what periods of time would those be that were not made by thee? Or
how could they have already passed away if they had not already been? Since,
therefore, thou art the Creator of all times, if there was any time before thou madest
heaven and earth, why is it said that thou wast abstaining from working? For thou
madest that very time itself, and periods could not pass by before thou madest the
whole temporal procession. But if there was no time before heaven and earth, how,
then, can it be asked, “What wast thou doing then?” For there was no “then” when
there was no time.
16. Nor dost thou precede any given period of time by another period of time.
Else thou wouldst not precede all periods of time. In the eminence of thy everpresent eternity, thou precedest all times past, and extendest beyond all future
times, for they are still to come--and when they have come, they will be past. But
“Thou art always the Selfsame and thy years shall have no end.”432 Thy years
neither go nor come; but ours both go and come in order that all separate moments
may come to pass. All thy years stand together as one, since they are abiding. Nor
do thy years past exclude the years to come because thy years do not pass away. All
these years of ours shall be with thee, when all of them shall have ceased to be. Thy
years are but a day, and thy day is not recurrent, but always today. Thy “today”
432Cf. Ps. 102:27.
yields not to tomorrow and does not follow yesterday. Thy “today” is eternity.
Therefore, thou didst generate the Coeternal, to whom thou didst say, “This day I
have begotten thee.”433 Thou madest all time and before all times thou art, and
there was never a time when there was no time.
CHAPTER XIV
17. There was no time, therefore, when thou hadst not made anything,
because thou hadst made time itself. And there are no times that are coeternal with
thee, because thou dost abide forever; but if times should abide, they would not be
times.
For what is time? Who can easily and briefly explain it? Who can even
comprehend it in thought or put the answer into words? Yet is it not true that in
conversation we refer to nothing more familiarly or knowingly than time? And
surely we understand it when we speak of it; we understand it also when we hear
another speak of it.
What, then, is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain
it to him who asks me, I do not know. Yet I say with confidence that I know that if
nothing passed away, there would be no past time; and if nothing were still coming,
there would be no future time; and if there were nothing at all, there would be no
present time.
But, then, how is it that there are the two times, past and future, when even
the past is now no longer and the future is now not yet? But if the present were
always present, and did not pass into past time, it obviously would not be time but
eternity. If, then, time present--if it be time--comes into existence only because it
passes into time past, how can we say that even this is, since the cause of its being
is that it will cease to be? Thus, can we not truly say that time is only as it tends
toward nonbeing?
CHAPTER XV
18. And yet we speak of a long time and a short time; but never speak this
way except of time past and future. We call a hundred years ago, for example, a long
time past. In like manner, we should call a hundred years hence a long time to
come. But we call ten days ago a short time past; and ten days hence a short time to
come. But in what sense is something long or short that is nonexistent? For the past
is not now, and the future is not yet. Therefore, let us not say, “It is long”; instead,
let us say of the past, “It was long,” and of the future, “It will be long.” And yet, O
Lord, my Light, shall not thy truth make mockery of man even here? For that long
time past: was it long when it was already past, or when it was still present? For it
might have been long when there was a period that could be long, but when it was
past, it no longer was. In that case, that which was not at all could not be long. Let
us not, therefore, say, “Time past was long,” for we shall not discover what it was
that was long because, since it is past, it no longer exists. Rather, let us say that
“time present was long, because when it was present it was long.” For then it had
not yet passed on so as not to be, and therefore it still was in a state that could be
called long. But after it passed, it ceased to be long simply because it ceased to be.
19. Let us, therefore, O human soul, see whether present time can be long, for
it has been given you to feel and measure the periods of time. How, then, will you
answer me?
433Ps. 2:7.
Is a hundred years when present a long time? But, first, see whether a
hundred years can be present at once. For if the first year in the century is current,
then it is present time, and the other ninety and nine are still future. Therefore,
they are not yet. But, then, if the second year is current, one year is already past,
the second present, and all the rest are future. And thus, if we fix on any middle
year of this century as present, those before it are past, those after it are future.
Therefore, a hundred years cannot be present all at once.
Let us see, then, whether the year that is now current can be present. For if
its first month is current, then the rest are future; if the second, the first is already
past, and the remainder are not yet. Therefore, the current year is not present all at
once. And if it is not present as a whole, then the year is not present. For it takes
twelve months to make the year, from which each individual month which is
current is itself present one at a time, but the rest are either past or future.
20. Thus it comes out that time present, which we found was the only time
that could be called “long,” has been cut down to the space of scarcely a single day.
But let us examine even that, for one day is never present as a whole. For it is made
up of twenty-four hours, divided between night and day. The first of these hours has
the rest of them as future, and the last of them has the rest as past; but any of those
between has those that preceded it as past and those that succeed it as future. And
that one hour itself passes away in fleeting fractions. The part of it that has fled is
past; what remains is still future. If any fraction of time be conceived that cannot
now be divided even into the most minute momentary point, this alone is what we
may call time present. But this flies so rapidly from future to past that it cannot be
extended by any delay. For if it is extended, it is then divided into past and future.
But the present has no extension434 whatever.
Where, therefore, is that time which we may call “long”? Is it future? Actually
we do not say of the future, “It is long,” for it has not yet come to be, so as to be long.
Instead, we say, “It will be long.” When will it be? For since it is future, it will not be
long, for what may be long is not yet. It will be long only when it passes from the
future which is not as yet, and will have begun to be present, so that there can be
something that may be long. But in that case, time present cries aloud, in the words
we have already heard, that it cannot be “long.”
CHAPTER XVI
21. And yet, O Lord, we do perceive intervals of time, and we compare them
with each other, and we say that some are longer and others are shorter. We even
measure how much longer or shorter this time may be than that time. And we say
that this time is twice as long, or three times as long, while this other time is only
just as long as that other. But we measure the passage of time when we measure
the intervals of perception. But who can measure times past which now are no
longer, or times future which are not yet--unless perhaps someone will dare to say
that what does not exist can be measured? Therefore, while time is passing, it can
be perceived and measured; but when it is past, it cannot, since it is not.
CHAPTER XVII
22. I am seeking the truth, O Father; I am not affirming it. O my God, direct
and rule me.
Who is there who will tell me that there are not three times--as we learned
434Spatium, which means extension either in space or time.
when boys and as we have also taught boys--time past, time present, and time
future? Who can say that there is only time present because the other two do not
exist? Or do they also exist; but when, from the future, time becomes present, it
proceeds from some secret place; and when, from times present, it becomes past, it
recedes into some secret place? For where have those men who have foretold the
future seen the things foretold, if then they were not yet existing? For what does not
exist cannot be seen. And those who tell of things past could not speak of them as if
they were true, if they did not see them in their minds. These things could in no way
be discerned if they did not exist. There are therefore times present and times past.
CHAPTER XVIII
23. Give me leave, O Lord, to seek still further. O my Hope, let not my
purpose be confounded. For if there are times past and future, I wish to know where
they are. But if I have not yet succeeded in this, I still know that wherever they are,
they are not there as future or past, but as present. For if they are there as future,
they are there as “not yet”; if they are there as past, they are there as “no longer.”
Wherever they are and whatever they are they exist therefore only as present.
Although we tell of past things as true, they are drawn out of the memory--not the
things themselves, which have already passed, but words constructed from the
images of the perceptions which were formed in the mind, like footprints in their
passage through the senses. My childhood, for instance, which is no longer, still
exists in time past, which does not now exist. But when I call to mind its image and
speak of it, I see it in the present because it is still in my memory. Whether there is
a similar explanation for the foretelling of future events--that is, of the images of
things which are not yet seen as if they were already existing--I confess, O my God,
I do not know. But this I certainly do know: that we generally think ahead about
our future actions, and this premeditation is in time present; but that the action
which we premeditate is not yet, because it is still future. When we shall have
started the action and have begun to do what we were premeditating, then that
action will be in time present, because then it is no longer in time future.
24. Whatever may be the manner of this secret foreseeing of future things,
nothing can be seen except what exists. But what exists now is not future, but
present. When, therefore, they say that future events are seen, it is not the events
themselves, for they do not exist as yet (that is, they are still in time future), but
perhaps, instead, their causes and their signs are seen, which already do exist.
Therefore, to those already beholding these causes and signs, they are not future,
but present, and from them future things are predicted because they are conceived
in the mind. These conceptions, however, exist now, and those who predict those
things see these conceptions before them in time present.
Let me take an example from the vast multitude and variety of such things. I
see the dawn; I predict that the sun is about to rise. What I see is in time present,
what I predict is in time future--not that the sun is future, for it already exists; but
its rising is future, because it is not yet. Yet I could not predict even its rising,
unless I had an image of it in my mind; as, indeed, I do even now as I speak. But
that dawn which I see in the sky is not the rising of the sun (though it does precede
it), nor is it a conception in my mind. These two435 are seen in time present, in order
that the event which is in time future may be predicted.
Future events, therefore, are not yet. And if they are not yet, they do not
exist. And if they do not exist, they cannot be seen at all, but they can be predicted
435The breaking light and the image of the rising sun.
from things present, which now are and are seen.
CHAPTER XIX
25. Now, therefore, O Ruler of thy creatures, what is the mode by which thou
teachest souls those things which are still future? For thou hast taught thy
prophets. How dost thou, to whom nothing is future, teach future things--or rather
teach things present from the signs of things future? For what does not exist
certainly cannot be taught. This way of thine is too far from my sight; it is too great
for me, I cannot attain to it.436 But I shall be enabled by thee, when thou wilt grant
it, O sweet Light of my secret eyes.
CHAPTER XX
26. But even now it is manifest and clear that there are neither times future
nor times past. Thus it is not properly said that there are three times, past, present,
and future. Perhaps it might be said rightly that there are three times: a time
present of things past; a time present of things present; and a time present of things
future. For these three do coexist somehow in the soul, for otherwise I could not see
them. The time present of things past is memory; the time present of things present
is direct experience; the time present of things future is expectation.437 If we are
allowed to speak of these things so, I see three times, and I grant that there are
three. Let it still be said, then, as our misapplied custom has it: “There are three
times, past, present, and future.” I shall not be troubled by it, nor argue, nor object-always provided that what is said is understood, so that neither the future nor the
past is said to exist now. There are but few things about which we speak properly-and many more about which we speak improperly--though we understand one
another’s meaning.
CHAPTER XXI
27. I have said, then, that we measure periods of time as they pass so that we
can say that this time is twice as long as that one or that this is just as long as that,
and so on for the other fractions of time which we can count by measuring.
So, then, as I was saying, we measure periods of time as they pass. And if
anyone asks me, “How do you know this?”, I can answer: “I know because we
measure. We could not measure things that do not exist, and things past and future
do not exist.” But how do we measure present time since it has no extension? It is
measured while it passes, but when it has passed it is not measured; for then there
is nothing that could be measured. But whence, and how, and whither does it pass
while it is being measured? Whence, but from the future? Which way, save through
the present? Whither, but into the past? Therefore, from what is not yet, through
what has no length, it passes into what is now no longer. But what do we measure,
unless it is a time of some length? For we cannot speak of single, and double, and
triple, and equal, and all the other ways in which we speak of time, except in terms
of the length of the periods of time. But in what “length,” then, do we measure
passing time? Is it in the future, from which it passes over? But what does not yet
exist cannot be measured. Or, is it in the present, through which it passes? But
436Cf. Ps. 139:6.
437Memoria, contuitus, and expectatio: a pattern that corresponds vaguely to the movement of
Augustine's thought in the Confessions: from direct experience back to the supporting memories and
forward to the outreach of hope and confidence in God's provident grace.
what has no length we cannot measure. Or is it in the past into which it passes? But
what is no longer we cannot measure.
CHAPTER XXII
28. My soul burns ardently to understand this most intricate enigma. O Lord
my God, O good Father, I beseech thee through Christ, do not close off these things,
both the familiar and the obscure, from my desire. Do not bar it from entering into
them; but let their light dawn by thy enlightening mercy, O Lord. Of whom shall I
inquire about these things? And to whom shall I confess my ignorance of them with
greater profit than to thee, to whom these studies of mine (ardently longing to
understand thy Scriptures) are not a bore? Give me what I love, for I do love it; and
this thou hast given me. O Father, who truly knowest how to give good gifts to thy
children, give this to me. Grant it, since I have undertaken to understand it, and
hard labor is my lot until thou openest it. I beseech thee, through Christ and in his
name, the Holy of Holies, let no man interrupt me. “For I have believed, and
therefore do I speak.”438 This is my hope; for this I live: that I may contemplate the
joys of my Lord.439 Behold, thou hast made my days grow old, and they pass away-and how I do not know.
We speak of this time and that time, and these times and those times: “How
long ago since he said this?” “How long ago since he did this?” “How long ago since I
saw that?” “This syllable is twice as long as that single short syllable.” These words
we say and hear, and we are understood and we understand. They are quite
commonplace and ordinary, and still the meaning of these very same things lies
deeply hid and its discovery is still to come.
CHAPTER XXIII
29. I once heard a learned man say that the motions of the sun, moon, and
stars constituted time; and I did not agree. For why should not the motions of all
bodies constitute time? What if the lights of heaven should cease, and a potter’s
wheel still turn round: would there be no time by which we might measure those
rotations and say either that it turned at equal intervals, or, if it moved now more
slowly and now more quickly, that some rotations were longer and others shorter?
And while we were saying this, would we not also be speaking in time? Or would
there not be in our words some syllables that were long and others short, because
the first took a longer time to sound, and the others a shorter time? O God, grant
men to see in a small thing the notions that are common440 to all things, both great
and small. Both the stars and the lights of heaven are “for signs and seasons, and
for days and years.”441 This is doubtless the case, but just as I should not say that
the circuit of that wooden wheel was a day, neither would that learned man say that
there was, therefore, no time.
30. I thirst to know the power and the nature of time, by which we measure
the motions of bodies, and say, for example, that this motion is twice as long as that.
For I ask, since the word “day” refers not only to the length of time that the sun is
above the earth (which separates day from night), but also refers to the sun’s entire
438Cf. Ps. 116:10.
439Cf. Matt. 25:21, 23.
440Communes notitias, the universal principles of "common sense." This idea became a basic
category in scholastic epistemology.
441Gen. 1:14.
circuit from east all the way around to east--on account of which we can say, “So
many days have passed” (the nights being included when we say, “So many days,”
and their lengths not counted separately)--since, then, the day is ended by the
motion of the sun and by his passage from east to east, I ask whether the motion
itself is the day, or whether the day is the period in which that motion is completed;
or both? For if the sun’s passage is the day, then there would be a day even if the
sun should finish his course in as short a period as an hour. If the motion itself is
the day, then it would not be a day if from one sunrise to another there were a
period no longer than an hour. But the sun would have to go round twenty-four
times to make just one day. If it is both, then that could not be called a day if the
sun ran his entire course in the period of an hour; nor would it be a day if, while the
sun stood still, as much time passed as the sun usually covered during his whole
course, from morning to morning. I shall, therefore, not ask any more what it is that
is called a day, but rather what time is, for it is by time that we measure the circuit
of the sun, and would be able to say that it was finished in half the period of time
that it customarily takes if it were completed in a period of only twelve hours. If,
then, we compare these periods, we could call one of them a single and the other a
double period, as if the sun might run his course from east to east sometimes in a
single period and sometimes in a double period.
Let no man tell me, therefore, that the motions of the heavenly bodies
constitute time. For when the sun stood still at the prayer of a certain man in order
that he might gain his victory in battle, the sun stood still but time went on. For in
as long a span of time as was sufficient the battle was fought and ended.442
I see, then, that time is a certain kind of extension. But do I see it, or do I
only seem to? Thou, O Light and Truth, wilt show me.
CHAPTER XXIV
31. Dost thou command that I should agree if anyone says that time is “the
motion of a body”? Thou dost not so command. For I hear that no body is moved but
in time; this thou tellest me. But that the motion of a body itself is time I do not
hear; thou dost not say so. For when a body is moved, I measure by time how long it
was moving from the time when it began to be moved until it stopped. And if I did
not see when it began to be moved, and if it continued to move so that I could not
see when it stopped, I could not measure the movement, except from the time when
I began to see it until I stopped. But if I look at it for a long time, I can affirm only
that the time is long but not how long it may be. This is because when we say, “How
long?”, we are speaking comparatively as: “This is as long as that,” or, “This is twice
as long as that”; or other such similar ratios. But if we were able to observe the
point in space where and from which the body, which is moved, comes and the point
to which it is moved; or if we can observe its parts moving as in a wheel, we can say
how long the movement of the body took or the movement of its parts from this
place to that. Since, therefore, the motion of a body is one thing, and the norm by
which we measure how long it takes is another thing, we cannot see which of these
two is to be called time. For, although a body is sometimes moved and sometimes
stands still, we measure not only its motion but also its rest as well; and both by
time! Thus we say, “It stood still as long as it moved,” or, “It stood still twice or
three times as long as it moved”--or any other ratio which our measuring has either
determined or imagined, either roughly or precisely, according to our custom.
Therefore, time is not the motion of a body.
442Cf. Josh. 10:12-14.
CHAPTER XXV
32. And I confess to thee, O Lord, that I am still ignorant as to what time is.
And again I confess to thee, O Lord, that I know that I am speaking all these things
in time, and that I have already spoken of time a long time, and that “very long” is
not long except when measured by the duration of time. How, then, do I know this,
when I do not know what time is? Or, is it possible that I do not know how I can
express what I do know? Alas for me! I do not even know the extent of my own
ignorance. Behold, O my God, in thy presence I do not lie. As my heart is, so I speak.
Thou shalt light my candle; thou, O Lord my God, wilt enlighten my darkness.443
CHAPTER XXVI
33. Does not my soul most truly confess to thee that I do measure intervals of
time? But what is it that I thus measure, O my God, and how is it that I do not
know what I measure? I measure the motion of a body by time, but the time itself I
do not measure. But, truly, could I measure the motion of a body--how long it takes,
how long it is in motion from this place to that--unless I could measure the time in
which it is moving?
How, then, do I measure this time itself? Do we measure a longer time by a
shorter time, as we measure the length of a crossbeam in terms of cubits?444 Thus,
we can say that the length of a long syllable is measured by the length of a short
syllable and thus say that the long syllable is double. So also we measure the length
of poems by the length of the lines, and the length of the line by the length of the
feet, and the length of the feet by the length of the syllable, and the length of the
long syllables by the length of the short ones. We do not measure by pages--for in
that way we would measure space rather than time--but when we speak the words
as they pass by we say: “It is a long stanza, because it is made up of so many verses;
they are long verses because they consist of so many feet; they are long feet because
they extend over so many syllables; this is a long syllable because it is twice the
length of a short one.”
But no certain measure of time is obtained this way; since it is possible that if
a shorter verse is pronounced slowly, it may take up more time than a longer one if
it is pronounced hurriedly. The same would hold for a stanza, or a foot, or a syllable.
From this it appears to me that time is nothing other than extendedness;445 but
extendedness of what I do not know. This is a marvel to me. The extendedness may
be of the mind itself. For what is it I measure, I ask thee, O my God, when I say
either, roughly, “This time is longer than that,” or, more precisely, “This is twice as
long as that.” I know that I am measuring time. But I am not measuring the future,
for it is not yet; and I am not measuring the present because it is extended by no
length; and I am not measuring the past because it no longer is. What is it,
therefore, that I am measuring? Is it time in its passage, but not time past
[praetereuntia tempora, non praeterita]? This is what I have been saying.
CHAPTER XXVII
34. Press on, O my mind, and attend with all your power. God is our Helper:
443Cf. Ps. 18:28.
444Cubitum, literally the distance between the elbow and the tip of the middle finger; in the imperial
system of weights and measures it was 17.5 inches.
445Distentionem, "spread-out-ness"; cf. Descartes' notion of res extensae, and its relation to time.
“it is he that hath made us and not we ourselves.”446 Give heed where the truth
begins to dawn.447 Suppose now that a bodily voice begins to sound, and continues
to sound--on and on--and then ceases. Now there is silence. The voice is past, and
there is no longer a sound. It was future before it sounded, and could not be
measured because it was not yet; and now it cannot be measured because it is no
longer. Therefore, while it was sounding, it might have been measured because then
there was something that could be measured. But even then it did not stand still,
for it was in motion and was passing away. Could it, on that account, be any more
readily measured? For while it was passing away, it was being extended into some
interval of time in which it might be measured, since the present has no length.
Supposing, though, that it might have been measured--then also suppose that
another voice had begun to sound and is still sounding without any interruption to
break its continued flow. We can measure it only while it is sounding, for when it
has ceased to sound it will be already past and there will not be anything there that
can be measured. Let us measure it exactly; and let us say how much it is. But
while it is sounding, it cannot be measured except from the instant when it began to
sound, down to the final moment when it left off. For we measure the time interval
itself from some beginning point to some end. This is why a voice that has not yet
ended cannot be measured, so that one could say how long or how briefly it will
continue. Nor can it be said to be equal to another voice or single or double in
comparison to it or anything like this. But when it is ended, it is no longer. How,
therefore, may it be measured? And yet we measure times; not those which are not
yet, nor those which no longer are, nor those which are stretched out by some delay,
nor those which have no limit. Therefore, we measure neither times future nor
times past, nor times present, nor times passing by; and yet we do measure times.
35. Deus Creator omnium448: this verse of eight syllables alternates between
short and long syllables. The four short ones--that is, the first, third, fifth, and
seventh--are single in relation to the four long ones--that is, the second, fourth,
sixth, and eighth. Each of the long ones is double the length of each of the short
ones. I affirm this and report it, and common sense perceives that this indeed is the
case. By common sense, then, I measure a long syllable by a short one, and I find
that it is twice as long. But when one sounds after another, if the first be short and
the latter long, how can I hold the short one and how can I apply it to the long one
as a measure, so that I can discover that the long one is twice as long, when, in fact,
the long one does not begin to sound until the short one leaves off sounding? That
same long syllable I do not measure as present, since I cannot measure it until it is
ended; but its ending is its passing away.
What is it, then, that I can measure? Where is the short syllable by which I
measure? Where is the long one that I am measuring? Both have sounded, have
flown away, have passed on, and are no longer. And still I measure, and I
confidently answer--as far as a trained ear can be trusted--that this syllable is
single and that syllable double. And I could not do this unless they both had passed
and were ended. Therefore I do not measure them, for they do not exist any more.
But I measure something in my memory which remains fixed.
36. It is in you, O mind of mine, that I measure the periods of time. Do not
shout me down that it exists [objectively]; do not overwhelm yourself with the
446Ps. 100:3.
447Here Augustine begins to summarize his own answers to the questions he has raised in his
analysis of time.
448The same hymn of Ambrose quoted above, Bk. IX, Ch. XII, 39, and analyzed again in De musica,
VI, 2:2.
turbulent flood of your impressions. In you, as I have said, I measure the periods of
time. I measure as time present the impression that things make on you as they
pass by and what remains after they have passed by--I do not measure the things
themselves which have passed by and left their impression on you. This is what I
measure when I measure periods of time. Either, then, these are the periods of time
or else I do not measure time at all.
What are we doing when we measure silence, and say that this silence has
lasted as long as that voice lasts? Do we not project our thought to the measure of a
sound, as if it were then sounding, so that we can say something concerning the
intervals of silence in a given span of time? For, even when both the voice and the
tongue are still, we review--in thought--poems and verses, and discourse of various
kinds or various measures of motions, and we specify their time spans--how long
this is in relation to that--just as if we were speaking them aloud. If anyone wishes
to utter a prolonged sound, and if, in forethought, he has decided how long it should
be, that man has already in silence gone through a span of time, and committed his
sound to memory. Thus he begins to speak and his voice sounds until it reaches the
predetermined end. It has truly sounded and will go on sounding. But what is
already finished has already sounded and what remains will still sound. Thus it
passes on, until the present intention carries the future over into the past. The past
increases by the diminution of the future until by the consumption of all the future
all is past.449
CHAPTER XXVIII
37. But how is the future diminished or consumed when it does not yet exist?
Or how does the past, which exists no longer, increase, unless it is that in the mind
in which all this happens there are three functions? For the mind expects, it
attends, and it remembers; so that what it expects passes into what it remembers
by way of what it attends to. Who denies that future things do not exist as yet? But
still there is already in the mind the expectation of things still future. And who
denies that past things now exist no longer? Still there is in the mind the memory of
things past. Who denies that time present has no length, since it passes away in a
moment? Yet, our attention has a continuity and it is through this that what is
present may proceed to become absent. Therefore, future time, which is nonexistent,
is not long; but “a long future” is “a long expectation of the future.” Nor is time past,
which is now no longer, long; a “long past” is “a long memory of the past.”
38. I am about to repeat a psalm that I know. Before I begin, my attention
encompasses the whole, but once I have begun, as much of it as becomes past while
I speak is still stretched out in my memory. The span of my action is divided
between my memory, which contains what I have repeated, and my expectation,
which contains what I am about to repeat. Yet my attention is continually present
with me, and through it what was future is carried over so that it becomes past. The
more this is done and repeated, the more the memory is enlarged--and expectation
is shortened--until the whole expectation is exhausted. Then the whole action is
ended and passed into memory. And what takes place in the entire psalm takes
place also in each individual part of it and in each individual syllable. This also
holds in the even longer action of which that psalm is only a portion. The same
holds in the whole life of man, of which all the actions of men are parts. The same
holds in the whole age of the sons of men, of which all the lives of men are parts.
449This theory of time is worth comparing with its most notable restatement in modern poetry, in
T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets and especially "Burnt Norton."
CHAPTER XXIX
39. But “since thy loving-kindness is better than life itself,”450 observe how
my life is but a stretching out, and how thy right hand has upheld me in my Lord,
the Son of Man, the Mediator between thee, the One, and us, the many--in so many
ways and by so many means. Thus through him I may lay hold upon him in whom I
am also laid hold upon; and I may be gathered up from my old way of life to follow
that One and to forget that which is behind, no longer stretched out but now pulled
together again--stretching forth not to what shall be and shall pass away but to
those things that are before me. Not distractedly now, but intently, I follow on for
the prize of my heavenly calling,451 where I may hear the sound of thy praise and
contemplate thy delights, which neither come to be nor pass away.
But now my years are spent in mourning.452 And thou, O Lord, art my
comfort, my eternal Father. But I have been torn between the times, the order of
which I do not know, and my thoughts, even the inmost and deepest places of my
soul, are mangled by various commotions until I shall flow together into thee,
purged and molten in the fire of thy love.
CHAPTER XXX
40. And I will be immovable and fixed in thee, and thy truth will be my mold.
And I shall not have to endure the questions of those men who, as if in a morbid
disease, thirst for more than they can hold and say, “What did God make before he
made heaven and earth?” or, “How did it come into his mind to make something
when he had never before made anything?” Grant them, O Lord, to consider well
what they are saying; and grant them to see that where there is no time they cannot
say “never.” When, therefore, he is said “never to have made” something--what is
this but to say that it was made in no time at all? Let them therefore see that there
could be no time without a created world, and let them cease to speak vanity of this
kind. Let them also be stretched out to those things which are before them, and
understand that thou, the eternal Creator of all times, art before all times and that
no times are coeternal with thee; nor is any creature, even if there is a creature
“above time.”
CHAPTER XXXI
41. O Lord my God, what a chasm there is in thy deep secret! How far short of
it have the consequences of my sins cast me? Heal my eyes, that I may enjoy thy
light. Surely, if there is a mind that so greatly abounds in knowledge and
foreknowledge, to which all things past and future are as well known as one psalm
is well known to me, that mind would be an exceeding marvel and altogether
astonishing. For whatever is past and whatever is yet to come would be no more
concealed from him than the past and future of that psalm were hidden from me
when I was chanting it: how much of it had been sung from the beginning and what
and how much still remained till the end. But far be it from thee, O Creator of the
universe, and Creator of our souls and bodies--far be it from thee that thou shouldst
merely know all things past and future. Far, far more wonderfully, and far more
mysteriously thou knowest them. For it is not as the feelings of one singing familiar
450Ps. 63:3.
451Cf. Phil. 3:12-14.
452Cf. Ps. 31:10.
songs, or hearing a familiar song in which, because of his expectation of words still
to come and his remembrance of those that are past, his feelings are varied and his
senses are divided. This is not the way that anything happens to thee, who art
unchangeably eternal, that is, the truly eternal Creator of minds. As in the
beginning thou knewest both the heaven and the earth without any change in thy
knowledge, so thou didst make heaven and earth in their beginnings without any
division in thy action.453 Let him who understands this confess to thee; and let him
who does not understand also confess to thee! Oh, exalted as thou art, still the
humble in heart are thy dwelling place! For thou liftest them who are cast down and
they fall not for whom thou art the Most High.454
453Note here the preparation for the transition from this analysis of time in Bk. XI to the exploration
of the mystery of creation in Bks. XII and XIII.
454Celsitudo, an honorific title, somewhat like "Your Highness."
BOOK TWELVE
The mode of creation and the truth of Scripture. Augustine explores the relation of
the visible and formed matter of heaven and earth to the prior matrix from which it
was formed. This leads to an intricate analysis of “unformed matter” and the primal
“possibility” from which God created, itself created de nihilo. He finds a reference to
this in the misconstrued Scriptural phrase “the heaven of heavens.” Realizing that
his interpretation of Gen. 1:1, 2, is not self-evidently the only possibility, Augustine
turns to an elaborate discussion of the multiplicity of perspectives in hermeneutics
and, in the course of this, reviews the various possibilities of true interpretation of his
Scripture text. He emphasizes the importance of tolerance where there are plural
options, and confidence where basic Christian faith is concerned.
CHAPTER I
1. My heart is deeply stirred, O Lord, when in this poor life of mine the words
of thy Holy Scripture strike upon it. This is why the poverty of the human intellect
expresses itself in an abundance of language. Inquiry is more loquacious than
discovery. Demanding takes longer than obtaining; and the hand that knocks is
more active than the hand that receives. But we have the promise, and who shall
break it? “If God be for us, who can be against us?”455 “Ask, and you shall receive;
seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you; for everyone that
asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him that knocks, it shall be
opened.”456 These are thy own promises, and who need fear to be deceived when
truth promises?
CHAPTER II
2. In lowliness my tongue confesses to thy exaltation, for thou madest heaven
and earth. This heaven which I see, and this earth on which I walk--from which
came this “earth” that I carry about me--thou didst make.
But where is that heaven of heavens, O Lord, of which we hear in the words
of the psalm, “The heaven of heavens is the Lord’s, but the earth he hath given to
the children of men”?457 Where is the heaven that we cannot see, in relation to
which all that we can see is earth? For this whole corporeal creation has been
beautifully formed--though not everywhere in its entirety--and our earth is the
lowest of these levels. Still, compared with that heaven of heavens, even the heaven
of our own earth is only earth. Indeed, it is not absurd to call each of those two great
bodies458 “earth” in comparison with that ineffable heaven which is the Lord’s, and
455Rom. 8:31.
456Matt. 7:7, 8.
457Vulgate, Ps. 113:16 (cf. Ps. 115:16, K.J.; see also Ps. 148:4, both Vulgate and K.J.): Caelum caeli
domino, etc. Augustine finds a distinction here for which the Hebrew text gives no warrant. The
Hebrew is a typical nominal sentence and means simply "The heavens are the heavens of Yahweh";
cf. the Soncino edition of The Psalms, edited by A. Cohen; cf. also R.S.V., Ps. 115:16. The LXX
reading (ο ουρανοζ του ουρανου) seems to rest on a variant Hebrew text. This idiomatic construction
does not mean "the heavens of the heavens" (as it is too literally translated in the LXX), but rather
"highest heaven." This is a familiar way, in Hebrew, of emphasizing a superlative (e.g., "King of
kings," "Song of songs"). The singular thing can be described superlatively only in terms of itself!
458Earth and sky.
not for the sons of men.
CHAPTER III
3. And truly this earth was invisible and unformed,459 and there was an
inexpressibly profound abyss460 above which there was no light since it had no form.
Thou didst command it written that “darkness was on the face of the deep.”461 What
else is darkness except the absence of light? For if there had been light, where
would it have been except by being over all, showing itself rising aloft and giving
light? Therefore, where there was no light as yet, why was it that darkness was
present, unless it was that light was absent? Darkness, then, was heavy upon it,
because the light from above was absent; just as there is silence where there is no
sound. And what is it to have silence anywhere but simply not to have sound? Hast
thou not, O Lord, taught this soul which confesses to thee? Hast thou not thus
taught me, O Lord, that before thou didst form and separate this formless matter
there was nothing: neither color, nor figure, nor body, nor spirit? Yet it was not
absolutely nothing; it was a certain formlessness without any shape.
CHAPTER IV
4. What, then, should that formlessness be called so that somehow it might be
indicated to those of sluggish mind, unless we use some word in common speech?
But what can be found anywhere in the world nearer to a total formlessness than
the earth and the abyss? Because of their being on the lowest level, they are less
beautiful than are the other and higher parts, all translucent and shining.
Therefore, why may I not consider the formlessness of matter--which thou didst
create without shapely form, from which to make this shapely world--as fittingly
indicated to men by the phrase, “The earth invisible and unformed”?
CHAPTER V
5. When our thought seeks something for our sense to fasten to [in this
concept of unformed matter], and when it says to itself, “It is not an intelligible
form, such as life or justice, since it is the material for bodies; and it is not a former
perception, for there is nothing in the invisible and unformed which can be seen and
felt”--while human thought says such things to itself, it may be attempting either to
know by being ignorant or by knowing how not to know.
CHAPTER VI
6. But if, O Lord, I am to confess to thee, by my mouth and my pen, the whole
of what thou hast taught me concerning this unformed matter, I must say first of all
that when I first heard of such matter and did not understand it--and those who
459It is interesting that Augustine should have preferred the invisibilis et incomposita of the Old
Latin version of Gen. 1:2 over the inanis et vacua of the Vulgate, which was surely accessible to him.
Since this is to be a key phrase in the succeeding exegesis this reading can hardly have been the
casual citation of the old and familiar version. Is it possible that Augustine may have had the
sensibilities and associations of his readers in mind--for many of them may have not known Jerome's
version or, at least, not very well?
460Abyssus, literally, the unplumbed depths of the sea, and as a constant meaning here, "the depths
beyond measure."
461Gen. 1:2.
told me of it could not understand it either--I conceived of it as having countless and
varied forms. Thus, I did not think about it rightly. My mind in its agitation used to
turn up all sorts of foul and horrible “forms”; but still they were “forms.” And still I
called it formless, not because it was unformed, but because it had what seemed to
me a kind of form that my mind turned away from, as bizarre and incongruous,
before which my human weakness was confused. And even what I did conceive of as
unformed was so, not because it was deprived of all form, but only as it compared
with more beautiful forms. Right reason, then, persuaded me that I ought to remove
altogether all vestiges of form whatever if I wished to conceive matter that was
wholly unformed; and this I could not do. For I could more readily imagine that
what was deprived of all form simply did not exist than I could conceive of anything
between form and nothing--something which was neither formed nor nothing,
something that was unformed and nearly nothing.
Thus my mind ceased to question my spirit--filled as it was with the images
of formed bodies, changing and varying them according to its will. And so I applied
myself to the bodies themselves and looked more deeply into their mutability, by
which they cease to be what they had been and begin to be what they were not. This
transition from form to form I had regarded as involving something like a formless
condition, though not actual nothingness.462
But I desired to know, not to guess. And, if my voice and my pen were to
confess to thee all the various knots thou hast untied for me about this question,
who among my readers could endure to grasp the whole of the account? Still, despite
this, my heart will not cease to give honor to thee or to sing thy praises concerning
those things which it is not able to express.463
For the mutability of mutable things carries with it the possibility of all those
forms into which mutable things can be changed. But this mutability--what is it? Is
it soul? Is it body? Is it the external appearance of soul or body? Could it be said,
“Nothing was something,” and “That which is, is not”? If this were possible, I would
say that this was it, and in some such manner it must have been in order to receive
these visible and composite forms. 464
CHAPTER VII
7. Whence and how was this, unless it came from thee, from whom all things
are, in so far as they are? But the farther something is from thee, the more unlike
thee it is--and this is not a matter of distance or place.
Thus it was that thou, O Lord, who art not one thing in one place and another
thing in another place but the Selfsame, and the Selfsame, and the Selfsame--“Holy,
Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty”465--thus it was that in the beginning, and through
thy Wisdom which is from thee and born of thy substance, thou didst create
something and that out of nothing.466 For thou didst create the heaven and the
earth--not out of thyself, for then they would be equal to thy only Son and thereby to
thee. And there is no sense in which it would be right that anything should be equal
462Augustine may not have known the Platonic doctrine of nonbeing (cf. Sophist, 236C-237B), but he
clearly is deeply influenced here by Plotinus; cf. Enneads, II, 4:8f., where matter is analyzed as a
substratum without quantity or quality; and 4:15: "Matter, then, must be described as το απειρον
(the indefinite). . . . Matter is indeterminateness and nothing else." In short, materia informis is
sheer possibility; not anything and not nothing!
463Dictare: was Augustine dictating his Confessions? It is very probable.
464Visibiles et compositas, the opposite of "invisible and unformed."
465Isa. 6:3; Rev. 4:8.
466De nihilo.
to thee that was not of thee. But what else besides thee was there out of which thou
mightest create these things, O God, one Trinity, and trine Unity?467 And, therefore,
it was out of nothing at all that thou didst create the heaven and earth--something
great and something small--for thou art Almighty and Good, and able to make all
things good: even the great heaven and the small earth. Thou wast, and there was
nothing else from which thou didst create heaven and earth: these two things, one
near thee, the other near to nothing; the one to which only thou art superior, the
other to which nothing else is inferior.
CHAPTER VIII
8. That heaven of heavens was thine, O Lord, but the earth which thou didst
give to the sons of men to be seen and touched was not then in the same form as
that in which we now see it and touch it. For then it was invisible and unformed
and there was an abyss over which there was no light. The darkness was truly over
the abyss, that is, more than just in the abyss. For this abyss of waters which now is
visible has even in its depths a certain light appropriate to its nature, perceptible in
some fashion to fishes and the things that creep about on the bottom of it. But then
the entire abyss was almost nothing, since it was still altogether unformed. Yet
even there, there was something that had the possibility of being formed. For thou,
O Lord, hadst made the world out of unformed matter, and this thou didst make out
of nothing and didst make it into almost nothing. From it thou hast then made
these great things which we, the sons of men, marvel at. For this corporeal heaven
is truly marvelous, this firmament between the water and the waters which thou
didst make on the second day after the creation of light, saying, “Let it be done,” and
it was done.468 This firmament thou didst call heaven, that is, the heaven of this
earth and sea which thou madest on the third day, giving a visible shape to the
unformed matter which thou hadst made before all the days. For even before any
day thou hadst already made a heaven, but that was the heaven of this heaven: for
in the beginning thou hadst made heaven and earth.
But this earth itself which thou hadst made was unformed matter; it was
invisible and unformed, and darkness was over the abyss. Out of this invisible and
unformed earth, out of this formlessness which is almost nothing, thou didst then
make all these things of which the changeable world consists--and yet does not fully
consist in itself469--for its very changeableness appears in this, that its times and
seasons can be observed and numbered. The periods of time are measured by the
changes of things, while the forms, whose matter is the invisible earth of which we
have spoken, are varied and altered.
CHAPTER IX
9. And therefore the Spirit, the Teacher of thy servant,470 when he mentions
that “in the beginning thou madest heaven and earth,” says nothing about times
and is silent as to the days. For, clearly, that heaven of heavens which thou didst
create in the beginning is in some way an intellectual creature, although in no way
coeternal with thee, O Trinity. Yet it is nonetheless a partaker in thy eternity.
Because of the sweetness of its most happy contemplation of thee, it is greatly
467Trina unitas.
468Cf. Gen. 1:6.
469Constat et non constat, the created earth really exists but never is self-sufficient.
470Moses.
restrained in its own mutability and cleaves to thee without any lapse from the time
in which it was created, surpassing all the rolling change of time. But this
shapelessness--this earth invisible and unformed--was not numbered among the
days itself. For where there is no shape or order there is nothing that either comes
or goes, and where this does not occur there certainly are no days, nor any
vicissitude of duration.
CHAPTER X
10. O Truth, O Light of my heart, let not my own darkness speak to me! I had
fallen into that darkness and was darkened thereby. But in it, even in its depths, I
came to love thee. I went astray and still I remembered thee. I heard thy voice
behind me, bidding me return, though I could scarcely hear it for the tumults of my
boisterous passions. And now, behold, I am returning, burning and thirsting after
thy fountain. Let no one hinder me; here will I drink and so have life. Let me not be
my own life; for of myself I have lived badly. I was death to myself; in thee I have
revived. Speak to me; converse with me. I have believed thy books, and their words
are very deep.
CHAPTER XI
11. Thou hast told me already, O Lord, with a strong voice in my inner ear,
that thou art eternal and alone hast immortality. Thou art not changed by any
shape or motion, and thy will is not altered by temporal process, because no will
that changes is immortal. This is clear to me, in thy sight; let it become clearer and
clearer, I beseech thee. In that light let me abide soberly under thy wings.
Thou hast also told me, O Lord, with a strong voice in my inner ear, that thou
hast created all natures and all substances, which are not what thou art thyself;
and yet they do exist. Only that which is nothing at all is not from thee, and that
motion of the will away from thee, who art, toward something that exists only in a
lesser degree--such a motion is an offense and a sin. No one’s sin either hurts thee
or disturbs the order of thy rule, either first or last. All this, in thy sight, is clear to
me. Let it become clearer and clearer, I beseech thee, and in that light let me abide
soberly under thy wings.
12. Likewise, thou hast told me, with a strong voice in my inner ear, that this
creation--whose delight thou alone art--is not coeternal with thee. With a most
persevering purity it draws its support from thee and nowhere and never betrays its
own mutability, for thou art ever present with it; and it cleaves to thee with its
entire affection, having no future to expect and no past that it remembers; it is
varied by no change and is extended by no time.
O blessed one--if such there be--clinging to thy blessedness! It is blest in thee,
its everlasting Inhabitant and its Light. I cannot find a term that I would judge
more fitting for “the heaven of the heavens of the Lord” than “Thy house”--which
contemplates thy delights without any declination toward anything else and which,
with a pure mind in most harmonious stability, joins all together in the peace of
those saintly spirits who are citizens of thy city in those heavens that are above this
visible heaven.
13. From this let the soul that has wandered far away from thee understand-if now it thirsts for thee; if now its tears have become its bread, while daily they say
to it, “Where is your God?”471; if now it requests of thee just one thing and seeks
471Ps. 42:3, 10.
after this: that it may dwell in thy house all the days of its life (and what is its life
but thee? And what are thy days but thy eternity, like thy years which do not fail,
since thou art the Selfsame?)--from this, I say, let the soul understand (as far as it
can) how far above all times thou art in thy eternity; and how thy house has never
wandered away from thee; and, although it is not coeternal with thee, it continually
and unfailingly clings to thee and suffers no vicissitudes of time. This, in thy sight,
is clear to me; may it become clearer and clearer to me, I beseech thee, and in this
light may I abide soberly under thy wings.
14. Now I do not know what kind of formlessness there is in these mutations
of these last and lowest creatures. Yet who will tell me, unless it is someone who, in
the emptiness of his own heart, wanders about and begins to be dizzy in his own
fancies? Who except such a one would tell me whether, if all form were diminished
and consumed, formlessness alone would remain, through which a thing was
changed and turned from one species into another, so that sheer formlessness would
then be characterized by temporal change? And surely this could not be, because
without motion there is no time, and where there is no form there is no change.
CHAPTER XII
15. These things I have considered as thou hast given me ability, O my God,
as thou hast excited me to knock, and as thou hast opened to me when I knock. Two
things I find which thou hast made, not within intervals of time, although neither is
coeternal with thee. One of them is so formed that, without any wavering in its
contemplation, without any interval of change--mutable but not changed--it may
fully enjoy thy eternity and immutability. The other is so formless that it could not
change from one form to another (either of motion or of rest), and so time has no
hold upon it. But thou didst not leave this formless, for, before any “day” in the
beginning, thou didst create heaven and earth--these are the two things of which I
spoke.
But “the earth was invisible and unformed, and darkness was over the
abyss.” By these words its formlessness is indicated to us--so that by degrees they
may be led forward who cannot wholly conceive of the privation of all form without
arriving at nothing. From this formlessness a second heaven might be created and a
second earth--visible and well formed, with the ordered beauty of the waters, and
whatever else is recorded as created (though not without days) in the formation of
this world. And all this because such things are so ordered that in them the changes
of time may take place through the ordered processes of motion and form.
CHAPTER XIII
16. Meanwhile this is what I understand, O my God, when I hear thy
Scripture saying, “In the beginning God made the heaven and the earth, but the
earth was invisible and unformed, and darkness was over the abyss.” It does not say
on what day thou didst create these things. Thus, for the time being I understand
that “heaven of heavens” to mean the intelligible heaven, where to understand is to
know all at once--not “in part,” not “darkly,” not “through a glass”--but as a
simultaneous whole, in full sight, “face to face.”472 It is not this thing now and then
another thing, but (as we said) knowledge all at once without any temporal change.
And by the invisible and unformed earth, I understand that which suffers no
temporal vicissitude. Temporal change customarily means having one thing now
472Cor. 13:12.
and another later; but where there is no form there can be no distinction between
this or that. It is, then, by means of these two--one thing well formed in the
beginning and another thing wholly unformed, the one heaven (that is, the heaven
of heavens) and the other one earth (but the earth invisible and unformed)--it is by
means of these two notions that I am able to understand why thy Scripture said,
without mention of days, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.”
For it immediately indicated which earth it was speaking about. When, on the
second day, the firmament is recorded as having been created and called heaven,
this suggests to us which heaven it was that he was speaking about earlier, without
specifying a day.
CHAPTER XIV
17. Marvelous is the depth of thy oracles. Their surface is before us, inviting
the little ones; and yet wonderful is their depth, O my God, marvelous is their
depth! It is a fearful thing to look into them: an awe of honor and a tremor of love.
Their enemies I hate vehemently. Oh, if thou wouldst slay them with thy two-edged
sword, so that they should not be enemies! For I would prefer that they should be
slain to themselves, that they might live to thee. But see, there are others who are
not critics but praisers of the book of Genesis; they say: “The Spirit of God who
wrote these things by his servant Moses did not wish these words to be understood
like this. He did not wish to have it understood as you say, but as we say.” To them,
O God of us all, thyself being the judge, I give answer.
CHAPTER XV
18. “Will you say that these things are false which Truth tells me, with a loud
voice in my inner ear, about the very eternity of the Creator: that his essence is
changed in no respect by time and that his will is not distinct from his essence?
Thus, he doth not will one thing now and another thing later, but he willeth once
and for all everything that he willeth--not again and again; and not now this and
now that. Nor does he will afterward what he did not will before, nor does he cease
to will what he had willed before. Such a will would be mutable and no mutable
thing is eternal. But our God is eternal.
“Again, he tells me in my inner ear that the expectation of future things is
turned to sight when they have come to pass. And this same sight is turned into
memory when they have passed. Moreover, all thought that varies thus is mutable,
and nothing mutable is eternal. But our God is eternal.” These things I sum up and
put together, and I conclude that my God, the eternal God, hath not made any
creature by any new will, and his knowledge does not admit anything transitory.
19. “What, then, will you say to this, you objectors? Are these things false?”
“No,” they say. “What then? Is it false that every entity already formed and all
matter capable of receiving form is from him alone who is supremely good, because
he is supreme?” “We do not deny this, either,” they say. “What then? Do you deny
this: that there is a certain sublime created order which cleaves with such a chaste
love to the true and truly eternal God that, although it is not coeternal with him, yet
it does not separate itself from him, and does not flow away into any mutation of
change or process but abides in true contemplation of him alone?” If thou, O God,
dost show thyself to him who loves thee as thou hast commanded--and art sufficient
for him--then, such a one will neither turn himself away from thee nor turn away
toward himself. This is “the house of God.” It is not an earthly house and it is not
made from any celestial matter; but it is a spiritual house, and it partakes in thy
eternity because it is without blemish forever. For thou hast made it steadfast
forever and ever; thou hast given it a law which will not be removed. Still, it is not
coeternal with thee, O God, since it is not without beginning--it was created.
20. For, although we can find no time before it (for wisdom was created before
all things),473 this is certainly not that Wisdom which is absolutely coeternal and
equal with thee, our God, its Father, the Wisdom through whom all things were
created and in whom, in the beginning, thou didst create the heaven and earth. This
is truly the created Wisdom, namely, the intelligible nature which, in its
contemplation of light, is light. For this is also called wisdom, even if it is a created
wisdom. But the difference between the Light that lightens and that which is
enlightened is as great as is the difference between the Wisdom that creates and
that which is created. So also is the difference between the Righteousness that
justifies and the righteousness that is made by justification. For we also are called
thy righteousness, for a certain servant of thine says, “That we might be made the
righteousness of God in him.”474 Therefore, there is a certain created wisdom that
was created before all things: the rational and intelligible mind of that chaste city of
thine. It is our mother which is above and is free475 and “eternal in the heavens”476-but in what heavens except those which praise thee, the “heaven of heavens”? This
also is the “heaven of heavens” which is the Lord’s--although we find no time before
it, since what has been created before all things also precedes the creation of time.
Still, the eternity of the Creator himself is before it, from whom it took its beginning
as created, though not in time (since time as yet was not), even though time belongs
to its created nature.
21. Thus it is that the intelligible heaven came to be from thee, our God, but
in such a way that it is quite another being than thou art; it is not the Selfsame. Yet
we find that time is not only not before it, but not even in it, thus making it able to
behold thy face forever and not ever be turned aside. Thus, it is varied by no change
at all. But there is still in it that mutability in virtue of which it could become dark
and cold, if it did not, by cleaving to thee with a supernal love, shine and glow from
thee like a perpetual noon. O house full of light and splendor! “I have loved your
beauty and the place of the habitation of the glory of my Lord,”477 your builder and
possessor. In my wandering let me sigh for you; this I ask of him who made you,
that he should also possess me in you, seeing that he hath also made me. “I have
gone astray like a lost sheep478; yet upon the shoulders of my Shepherd, who is your
builder, I have hoped that I may be brought back to you.”479
22. “What will you say to me now, you objectors to whom I spoke, who still
believe that Moses was the holy servant of God, and that his books were the oracles
of the Holy Spirit? Is it not in this ‘house of God’--not coeternal with God, yet in its
own mode ‘eternal in the heavens’--that you vainly seek for temporal change? You
will not find it there. It rises above all extension and every revolving temporal
period, and it rises to what is forever good and cleaves fast to God.”
“It is so,” they reply. “What, then, about those things which my heart cried
out to my God, when it heard, within, the voice of his praise? What, then, do you
contend is false in them? Is it because matter was unformed, and since there was no
473Cf. Ecclus. 1:4.
4742 Cor. 5:21.
475Cf. Gal. 4:26.
4762 Cor. 5:1.
477Cf. Ps. 26:8.
478Ps. 119:176.
479To "the house of God."
form there was no order? But where there was no order there could have been no
temporal change. Yet even this ‘almost nothing,’ since it was not altogether nothing,
was truly from him from whom everything that exists is in whatever state it is.”
“This also,” they say, “we do not deny.”
CHAPTER XVI
23. Now, I would like to discuss a little further, in thy presence, O my God,
with those who admit that all these things are true that thy Truth has indicated to
my mind. Let those who deny these things bark and drown their own voices with as
much clamor as they please. I will endeavor to persuade them to be quiet and to
permit thy word to reach them. But if they are unwilling, and if they repel me, I ask
of thee, O my God, that thou shouldst not be silent to me. 480 Speak truly in my
heart; if only thou wouldst speak thus, I would send them away, blowing up the
dust and raising it in their own eyes. As for myself I will enter into my closet481 and
there sing to thee the songs of love, groaning with groanings that are unutterable
now in my pilgrimage,482 and remembering Jerusalem with my heart uplifted to
Jerusalem my country, Jerusalem my mother483; and to thee thyself, the Ruler of
the source of Light, its Father, Guardian, Husband; its chaste and strong delight, its
solid joy and all its goods ineffable--and all of this at the same time, since thou art
the one supreme and true Good! And I will not be turned away until thou hast
brought back together all that I am from this dispersion and deformity to the peace
of that dearest mother, where the first fruits of my spirit are to be found and from
which all these things are promised me which thou dost conform and confirm
forever, O my God, my Mercy. But as for those who do not say that all these things
which are true are false, who still honor thy Scripture set before us by the holy
Moses, who join us in placing it on the summit of authority for us to follow, and yet
who oppose us in some particulars, I say this: “Be thou, O God, the judge between
my confessions and their gainsaying.”
CHAPTER XVII
24. For they say: “Even if these things are true, still Moses did not refer to
these two things when he said, by divine revelation, ‘In the beginning God created
the heaven and the earth.’ By the term ‘heaven’ he did not mean that spiritual or
intelligible created order which always beholds the face of God. And by the term
‘earth’ he was not referring to unformed matter.”
“What then do these terms mean?”
They reply, “That man [Moses] meant what we mean; this is what he was
saying in those terms.” “What is that?”
“By the terms of heaven and earth,” they say, “he wished first to indicate
universally and briefly this whole visible world; then after this, by an enumeration
of the days, he could point out, one by one, all the things that it has pleased the
Holy Spirit to reveal in this way. For the people to whom he spoke were rude and
carnal, so that he judged it prudent that only those works of God which were visible
480Cf. Ps. 28:1.
481Cubile, i.e., the heart.
482Cf. Rom. 8:26.
483The heavenly Jerusalem of Gal. 4:26, which had become a favorite Christian symbol of the peace
and blessedness of heaven; cf. the various versions of the hymn "Jerusalem, My Happy Home" in
Julian's Dictionary of Hymnology, pp. 580-583. The original text is found in the Liber meditationum,
erroneously ascribed to Augustine himself.
should be mentioned to them.”
But they do agree that the phrases, “The earth was invisible and unformed,”
and “The darkened abyss,” may not inappropriately be understood to refer to this
unformed matter--and that out of this, as it is subsequently related, all the visible
things which are known to all were made and set in order during those specified
“days.”
25. But now, what if another one should say, “This same formlessness and
chaos of matter was first mentioned by the name of heaven and earth because, out
of it, this visible world--with all its entities which clearly appear in it and which we
are accustomed to be called by the name of heaven and earth--was created and
perfected”? And what if still another should say: “The invisible and visible nature is
quite fittingly called heaven and earth. Thus, the whole creation which God has
made in his wisdom--that is, in the beginning--was included under these two terms.
Yet, since all things have been made, not from the essence of God, but from nothing;
and because they are not the same reality that God is; and because there is in them
all a certain mutability, whether they abide as the eternal house of God abides or
whether they are changed as the soul and body of man are changed--then the
common matter of all things invisible and visible (still formless but capable of
receiving form) from which heaven and earth were to be created (that is, the
creature already fashioned, invisible as well as visible)--all this was spoken of in the
same terms by which the invisible and unformed earth and the darkness over the
abyss would be called. There was this difference, however: that the invisible and
unformed earth is to be understood as having corporeal matter before it had any
manner of form; but the darkness over the abyss was spiritual matter, before its
unlimited fluidity was harnessed, and before it was enlightened by Wisdom.”
26. And if anyone wished, he might also say, “The entities already perfected
and formed, invisible and visible, are not signified by the terms ‘heaven and earth,’
when it reads, ‘In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth’; instead, the
unformed beginning of things, the matter capable of receiving form and being made
was called by these terms--because the chaos was contained in it and was not yet
distinguished by qualities and forms, which have now been arranged in their own
orders and are called heaven and earth: the former a spiritual creation, the latter a
physical creation.”
CHAPTER XVIII
27. When all these things have been said and considered, I am unwilling to
contend about words, for such contention is profitable for nothing but the subverting
of the hearer.484 But the law is profitable for edification if a man use it lawfully: for
the end of the law “is love out of a pure heart, and a good conscience, and faith
unfeigned.”485 And our Master knew it well, for it was on these two commandments
that he hung all the Law and the Prophets. And how would it harm me, O my God,
thou Light of my eyes in secret, if while I am ardently confessing these things--since
many different things may be understood from these words, all of which may be
true--what harm would be done if I should interpret the meaning of the sacred
writer differently from the way some other man interprets? Indeed, all of us who
read are trying to trace out and understand what our author wished to convey; and
since we believe that he speaks truly we dare not suppose that he has spoken
anything that we either know or suppose to be false. Therefore, since every person
484Cf. 2 Tim. 2:14.
4851 Tim. 1:5.
tries to understand in the Holy Scripture what the writer understood, what harm is
done if a man understands what thou, the Light of all truth-speaking minds,
showest him to be true, although the author he reads did not understand this aspect
of the truth even though he did understand the truth in a different meaning?486
CHAPTER XIX487
28. For it is certainly true, O Lord, that thou didst create the heaven and the
earth. It is also true that “the beginning” is thy wisdom in which thou didst create
all things. It is likewise true that this visible world has its own great division (the
heaven and the earth) and these two terms include all entities that have been made
and created. It is further true that everything mutable confronts our minds with a
certain lack of form, whereby it receives form, or whereby it is capable of taking
form. It is true, yet again, that what cleaves to the changeless form so closely that
even though it is mutable it is not changed is not subject to temporal process. It is
true that the formlessness which is almost nothing cannot have temporal change in
it. It is true that that from which something is made can, in a manner of speaking,
be called by the same name as the thing that is made from it. Thus that
formlessness of which heaven and earth were made might be called “heaven and
earth.” It is true that of all things having form nothing is nearer to the unformed
than the earth and the abyss. It is true that not only every created and formed thing
but also everything capable of creation and of form were created by Thee, from
whom all things are.488 It is true, finally, that everything that is formed from what
is formless was formless before it was formed.
CHAPTER XX
29. From all these truths, which are not doubted by those to whom thou hast
granted insight in such things in their inner eye and who believe unshakably that
thy servant Moses spoke in the spirit of truth--from all these truths, then, one man
takes the sense of “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth” to mean,
“In his Word, coeternal with himself, God made both the intelligible and the
tangible, the spiritual and the corporeal creation.” Another takes it in a different
sense, that “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth” means, “In his
Word, coeternal with himself, God made the universal mass of this corporeal world,
with all the observable and known entities that it contains.” Still another finds a
different meaning, that “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth”
means, “In his Word, coeternal with himself, God made the unformed matter of the
spiritual and corporeal creation.” Another can take the sense that “In the beginning
God created the heaven and the earth” means, “In his Word, coeternal with himself,
God made the unformed matter of the physical creation, in which heaven and earth
were as yet indistinguished; but now that they have come to be separated and
486This is the basis of Augustine's defense of allegory as both legitimate and profitable in the
interpretation of Scripture. He did not mean that there is a plurality of literal truths in Scripture but
a multiplicity of perspectives on truth which amounted to different levels and interpretations of
truth. This gave Augustine the basis for a positive tolerance of varying interpretations which did
hold fast to the essential common premises about God's primacy as Creator; cf. M. Pontet, L'Exégèse
de Saint Augustin prédicateur (Lyons, 1944), chs. II and III.
487In this chapter, Augustine summarizes what he takes to be the Christian consensus on the
questions he has explored about the relation of the intellectual and corporeal creations.
488Cf. 1 Cor. 8:6.
formed, we can now perceive them both in the mighty mass of this world.” 489
Another takes still a further meaning, that “In the beginning God created heaven
and earth” means, “In the very beginning of creating and working, God made that
unformed matter which contained, undifferentiated, heaven and earth, from which
both of them were formed, and both now stand out and are observable with all the
things that are in them.”
CHAPTER XXI
30. Again, regarding the interpretation of the following words, one man
selects for himself, from all the various truths, the interpretation that “the earth
was invisible and unformed and darkness was over the abyss” means, “That
corporeal entity which God made was as yet the formless matter of physical things
without order and without light.” Another takes it in a different sense, that “But the
earth was invisible and unformed, and darkness was over the abyss” means, “This
totality called heaven and earth was as yet unformed and lightless matter, out of
which the corporeal heaven and the corporeal earth were to be made, with all the
things in them that are known to our physical senses.” Another takes it still
differently and says that “But the earth was invisible and unformed, and darkness
was over the abyss” means, “This totality called heaven and earth was as yet an
unformed and lightless matter, from which were to be made that intelligible heaven
(which is also called ‘the heaven of heavens’) and the earth (which refers to the
whole physical entity, under which term may be included this corporeal heaven)-that is, He made the intelligible heaven from which every invisible and visible
creature would be created.” He takes it in yet another sense who says that “But the
earth was invisible and unformed, and darkness was over the abyss” means, “The
Scripture does not refer to that formlessness by the term ‘heaven and earth’; that
formlessness itself already existed. This it called the invisible ‘earth’ and the
unformed and lightless ‘abyss,’ from which--as it had said before--God made the
heaven and the earth (namely, the spiritual and the corporeal creation).” Still
another says that “But the earth was invisible and formless, and darkness was over
the abyss” means, “There was already an unformed matter from which, as the
Scripture had already said, God made heaven and earth, namely, the entire
corporeal mass of the world, divided into two very great parts, one superior, the
other inferior, with all those familiar and known creatures that are in them.”
CHAPTER XXII
31. Now suppose that someone tried to argue against these last two opinions
as follows: “If you will not admit that this formlessness of matter appears to be
called by the term ‘heaven and earth,’ then there was something that God had not
made out of which he did make heaven and earth. And Scripture has not told us
that God made this matter, unless we understand that it is implied in the term
‘heaven and earth’ (or the term ‘earth’ alone) when it is said, ‘In the beginning God
created the heaven and earth.’ Thus, in what follows--’the earth was invisible and
unformed’--even though it pleased Moses thus to refer to unformed matter, yet we
can only understand by it that which God himself hath made, as it stands written in
the previous verse, ‘God made heaven and earth.’” Those who maintain either one or
the other of these two opinions which we have set out above will answer to such
objections: “We do not deny at all that this unformed matter was created by God,
489Mole mundi.
from whom all things are, and are very good--because we hold that what is created
and endowed with form is a higher good; and we also hold that what is made
capable of being created and endowed with form, though it is a lesser good, is still a
good. But the Scripture has not said specifically that God made this formlessness-any more than it has said it specifically of many other things, such as the orders of
‘cherubim’ and ‘seraphim’ and those others of which the apostle distinctly speaks:
‘thrones,’ ‘dominions,’ ‘principalities,’ ‘powers’490--yet it is clear that God made all of
these. If in the phrase ‘He made heaven and earth’ all things are included, what are
we to say about the waters upon which the Spirit of God moved? For if they are
understood as included in the term ‘earth,’ then how can unformed matter be meant
by the term ‘earth’ when we see the waters so beautifully formed? Or, if it be taken
thus, why, then, is it written that out of the same formlessness the firmament was
made and called heaven, and yet is it not specifically written that the waters were
made? For these waters, which we perceive flowing in so beautiful a fashion, are not
formless and invisible. But if they received that beauty at the time God said of
them, ‘Let the waters which are under the firmament be gathered together,’491 thus
indicating that their gathering together was the same thing as their reception of
form, what, then, is to be said about the waters that are above the firmament?
Because if they are unformed, they do not deserve to have a seat so honorable, and
yet it is not written by what specific word they were formed. If, then, Genesis is
silent about anything that God hath made, which neither sound faith nor unerring
understanding doubts that God hath made, let not any sober teaching dare to say
that these waters were coeternal with God because we find them mentioned in the
book of Genesis and do not find it mentioned when they were created. If Truth
instructs us, why may we not interpret that unformed matter which the Scripture
calls the earth--invisible and unformed--and the lightless abyss as having been
made by God from nothing; and thus understand that they are not coeternal with
him, although the narrative fails to tell us precisely when they were made?”
CHAPTER XXIII
32. I have heard and considered these theories as well as my weak
apprehension allows, and I confess my weakness to Thee, O Lord, though already
thou knowest it. Thus I see that two sorts of disagreements may arise when
anything is related by signs, even by trustworthy reporters. There is one
disagreement about the truth of the things involved; the other concerns the
meaning of the one who reports them. It is one thing to inquire as to what is true
about the formation of the Creation. It is another thing, however, to ask what that
excellent servant of thy faith, Moses, would have wished for the reader and hearer
to understand from these words. As for the first question, let all those depart from
me who imagine that Moses spoke things that are false. But let me be united with
them in thee, O Lord, and delight myself in thee with those who feed on thy truth in
the bond of love. Let us approach together the words of thy book and make diligent
inquiry in them for thy meaning through the meaning of thy servant by whose pen
thou hast given them to us.
CHAPTER XXIV
33. But in the midst of so many truths which occur to the interpreters of
490Cf. Col. 1:16.
491Gen. 1:9.
these words (understood as they can be in different ways), which one of us can
discover that single interpretation which warrants our saying confidently that
Moses thought thus and that in this narrative he wishes this to be understood, as
confidently as he would say that this is true, whether Moses thought the one or the
other. For see, O my God, I am thy servant, and I have vowed in this book an
offering of confession to thee,492 and I beseech thee that by thy mercy I may pay my
vow to thee. Now, see, could I assert that Moses meant nothing else than this [i.e.,
my interpretation] when he wrote, “In the beginning God created the heaven and
the earth,” as confidently as I can assert that thou in thy immutable Word hast
created all things, invisible and visible? No, I cannot do this because it is not as
clear to me that this was in his mind when he wrote these things, as I see it to be
certain in thy truth. For his thoughts might be set upon the very beginning of the
creation when he said, “In the beginning”; and he might have wished it understood
that, in this passage, “heaven and earth” refers to no formed and perfect entity,
whether spiritual or corporeal, but each of them only newly begun and still
formless. Whichever of these possibilities has been mentioned I can see that it
might have been said truly. But which of them he did actually intend to express in
these words I do not clearly see. However, whether it was one of these or some other
meaning which I have not mentioned that this great man saw in his mind when he
used these words I have no doubt whatever that he saw it truly and expressed it
suitably.
CHAPTER XXV
34. Let no man fret me now by saying, “Moses did not mean what you say, but
what I say.” Now if he asks me, “How do you know that Moses meant what you
deduce from his words?”, I ought to respond calmly and reply as I have already
done, or even more fully if he happens to be untrained. But when he says, “Moses
did not mean what you say, but what I say,” and then does not deny what either of
us says but allows that both are true--then, O my God, life of the poor, in whose
breast there is no contradiction, pour thy soothing balm into my heart that I may
patiently bear with people who talk like this! It is not because they are godly men
and have seen in the heart of thy servant what they say, but rather they are proud
men and have not considered Moses’ meaning, but only love their own--not because
it is true but because it is their own. Otherwise they could equally love another true
opinion, as I love what they say when what they speak is true--not because it is
theirs but because it is true, and therefore not theirs but true. And if they love an
opinion because it is true, it becomes both theirs and mine, since it is the common
property of all lovers of the truth. 493 But I neither accept nor approve of it when
they contend that Moses did not mean what I say but what they say--and this
because, even if it were so, such rashness is born not of knowledge, but of
impudence. It comes not from vision but from vanity.
And therefore, O Lord, thy judgments should be held in awe, because thy
truth is neither mine nor his nor anyone else’s; but it belongs to all of us whom thou
hast openly called to have it in common; and thou hast warned us not to hold on to
it as our own special property, for if we do we lose it. For if anyone arrogates to
himself what thou hast bestowed on all to enjoy, and if he desires something for his
own that belongs to all, he is forced away from what is common to all to what is,
492Note how this reiterates a constant theme in the Confessions as a whole; a further indication that
Bk. XII is an integral part of the single whole.
493Cf. De libero arbitrio, II, 8:20, 10:28.
indeed, his very own--that is, from truth to falsehood. For he who tells a lie speaks
of his own thought.494
35. Hear, O God, best judge of all! O Truth itself, hear what I say to this
disputant. Hear it, because I say it in thy presence and before my brethren who use
the law rightly to the end of love. Hear and give heed to what I shall say to him, if it
pleases thee.
For I would return this brotherly and peaceful word to him: “If we both see
that what you say is true, and if we both say that what I say is true, where is it, I
ask you, that we see this? Certainly, I do not see it in you, and you do not see it in
me, but both of us see it in the unchangeable truth itself, which is above our
minds.”495 If, then, we do not disagree about the true light of the Lord our God, why
do we disagree about the thoughts of our neighbor, which we cannot see as clearly
as the immutable Truth is seen? If Moses himself had appeared to us and said,
“This is what I meant,” it would not be in order that we should see it but that we
should believe him. Let us not, then, “go beyond what is written and be puffed up
for the one against the other.”496 Let us, instead, “love the Lord our God with all our
heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind, and our neighbor as ourself.” 497
Unless we believe that whatever Moses meant in these books he meant to be
ordered by these two precepts of love, we shall make God a liar, if we judge of the
soul of his servant in any other way than as he has taught us. See now, how foolish
it is, in the face of so great an abundance of true opinions which can be elicited from
these words, rashly to affirm that Moses especially intended only one of these
interpretations; and then, with destructive contention, to violate love itself, on
behalf of which he had said all the things we are endeavoring to explain!
CHAPTER XXVI
36. And yet, O my God, thou exaltation of my humility and rest of my toil,
who hearest my confessions and forgivest my sins, since thou commandest me to
love my neighbor as myself, I cannot believe that thou gavest thy most faithful
servant Moses a lesser gift than I should wish and desire for myself from thee, if I
had been born in his time, and if thou hadst placed me in the position where, by the
use of my heart and my tongue, those books might be produced which so long after
were to profit all nations throughout the whole world--from such a great pinnacle of
authority--and were to surmount the words of all false and proud teachings. If I had
been Moses--and we all come from the same mass,498 and what is man that thou art
mindful of him? 499--if I had been Moses at the time that he was, and if I had been
ordered by thee to write the book of Genesis, I would surely have wished for such a
power of expression and such an art of arrangement to be given me, that those who
cannot as yet understand how God createth would still not reject my words as
surpassing their powers of understanding. And I would have wished that those who
are already able to do this would find fully contained in the laconic speech of thy
servant whatever truths they had arrived at in their own thought; and if, in the
light of the Truth, some other man saw some further meaning, that too would be
494Cf. John 8:44.
495The essential thesis of the De Magistro; it has important implications both for Augustine's
epistemology and for his theory of Christian nurture; cf. the De catechizandis rudibus.
4961 Cor. 4:6.
497Cf. Deut. 6:5; Lev. 19:18; see also Matt. 22:37, 39.
498Cf. Rom. 9:21.
499Cf. Ps. 8:4.
found congruent to my words.
CHAPTER XXVII
37. For just as a spring dammed up is more plentiful and affords a larger
supply of water for more streams over wider fields than any single stream led off
from the same spring over a long course--so also is the narration of thy minister: it
is intended to benefit many who are likely to discourse about it and, with an
economy of language, it overflows into various streams of clear truth, from which
each one may draw out for himself that particular truth which he can about these
topics--this one that truth, that one another truth, by the broader survey of various
interpretations. For some people, when they read or hear these words,500 think that
God, like some sort of man or like some sort of huge body, by some new and sudden
decision, produced outside himself and at a certain distance two great bodies: one
above, the other below, within which all created things were to be contained. And
when they hear, “God said, ‘Let such and such be done,’ and it was done,” they think
of words begun and ended, sounding in time and then passing away, followed by the
coming into being of what was commanded. They think of other things of the same
sort which their familiarity with the world suggests to them.
In these people, who are still little children and whose weakness is borne up
by this humble language as if on a mother’s breast, their faith is built up healthfully
and they come to possess and to hold as certain the conviction that God made all
entities that their senses perceive all around them in such marvelous variety. And if
one despises these words as if they were trivial, and with proud weakness stretches
himself beyond his fostering cradle, he will, alas, fall away wretchedly. Have pity, O
Lord God, lest those who pass by trample on the unfledged bird,501 and send thy
angel who may restore it to its nest, that it may live until it can fly.
CHAPTER XXVIII
38. But others, to whom these words are no longer a nest but, rather, a shady
thicket, spy the fruits concealed in them and fly around rejoicing and search among
them and pluck them with cheerful chirpings: For when they read or hear these
words, O God, they see that all times past and times future are transcended by thy
eternal and stable permanence, and they see also that there is no temporal creature
that is not of thy making. By thy will, since it is the same as thy being, thou hast
created all things, not by any mutation of will and not by any will that previously
was nonexistent--and not out of thyself, but in thy own likeness, thou didst make
from nothing the form of all things. This was an unlikeness which was capable of
being formed by thy likeness through its relation to thee, the One, as each thing has
been given form appropriate to its kind according to its preordained capacity. Thus,
all things were made very good, whether they remain around thee or whether,
removed in time and place by various degrees, they cause or undergo the beautiful
changes of natural process.
They see these things and they rejoice in the light of thy truth to whatever
degree they can.
39. Again, one of these men502 directs his attention to the verse, “In the
beginning God made the heaven and the earth,” and he beholds Wisdom as the true
500"In the beginning God created," etc.
501An echo of Job 39:13-16.
502The thicket denizens mentioned above.
“beginning,” because it also speaks to us. Another man directs his attention to the
same words, and by “beginning” he understands simply the commencement of
creation, and interprets it thus: “In the beginning he made,” as if it were the same
thing as to say, “At the first moment, God made . . .” And among those who interpret
“In the beginning” to mean that in thy wisdom thou hast created the heaven and
earth, one believes that the matter out of which heaven and earth were to be
created is what is referred to by the phrase “heaven and earth.” But another
believes that these entities were already formed and distinct. Still another will
understand it to refer to one formed entity--a spiritual one, designated by the term
“heaven”--and to another unformed entity of corporeal matter, designated by the
term “earth.” But those who understand the phrase “heaven and earth” to mean the
yet unformed matter from which the heaven and the earth were to be formed do not
take it in a simple sense: one man regards it as that from which the intelligible and
tangible creations are both produced; and another only as that from which the
tangible, corporeal world is produced, containing in its vast bosom these visible and
observable entities. Nor are they in simple accord who believe that “heaven and
earth” refers to the created things already set in order and arranged. One believes
that it refers to the invisible and visible world; another, only to the visible world, in
which we admire the luminous heavens and the darkened earth and all the things
that they contain.
CHAPTER XXIX
40. But he who understands “In the beginning he made” as if it meant, “At
first he made,” can truly interpret the phrase “heaven and earth” as referring only
to the “matter” of heaven and earth, namely, of the prior universal, which is the
intelligible and corporeal creation. For if he would try to interpret the phrase as
applying to the universe already formed, it then might rightly be asked of him, “If
God first made this, what then did he do afterward?” And, after the universe, he will
find nothing. But then he must, however unwillingly, face the question, How is this
the first if there is nothing afterward? But when he said that God made matter first
formless and then formed, he is not being absurd if he is able to discern what
precedes by eternity, and what proceeds in time; what comes from choice, and what
comes from origin. In eternity, God is before all things; in the temporal process, the
flower is before the fruit; in the act of choice, the fruit is before the flower; in the
case of origin, sound is before the tune. Of these four relations, the first and last
that I have referred to are understood with much difficulty. The second and third
are very easily understood. For it is an uncommon and lofty vision, O Lord, to
behold thy eternity immutably making mutable things, and thereby standing
always before them. Whose mind is acute enough to be able, without great labor, to
discover how the sound comes before the tune? For a tune is a formed sound; and an
unformed thing may exist, but a thing that does not exist cannot be formed. In the
same way, matter is prior to what is made from it. It is not prior because it makes
its product, for it is itself made; and its priority is not that of a time interval. For in
time we do not first utter formless sounds without singing and then adapt or
fashion them into the form of a song, as wood or silver from which a chest or vessel
is made. Such materials precede in time the forms of the things which are made
from them. But in singing this is not so. For when a song is sung, its sound is heard
at the same time. There is not first a formless sound, which afterward is formed into
a song; but just as soon as it has sounded it passes away, and you cannot find
anything of it which you could gather up and shape. Therefore, the song is absorbed
in its own sound and the “sound” of the song is its “matter.” But the sound is formed
in order that it may be a tune. This is why, as I was saying, the matter of the sound
is prior to the form of the tune. It is not “before” in the sense that it has any power
of making a sound or tune. Nor is the sound itself the composer of the tune; rather,
the sound is sent forth from the body and is ordered by the soul of the singer, so that
from it he may form a tune. Nor is the sound first in time, for it is given forth
together with the tune. Nor is it first in choice, because a sound is no better than a
tune, since a tune is not merely a sound but a beautiful sound. But it is first in
origin, because the tune is not formed in order that it may become a sound, but the
sound is formed in order that it may become a tune.
From this example, let him who is able to understand see that the matter of
things was first made and was called “heaven and earth” because out of it the
heaven and earth were made. This primal formlessness was not made first in time,
because the form of things gives rise to time; but now, in time, it is intuited together
with its form. And yet nothing can be related of this unformed matter unless it is
regarded as if it were the first in the time series though the last in value--because
things formed are certainly superior to things unformed--and it is preceded by the
eternity of the Creator, so that from nothing there might be made that from which
something might be made.
CHAPTER XXX
41. In this discord of true opinions let Truth itself bring concord, and may our
God have mercy on us all, that we may use the law rightly to the end of the
commandment which is pure love. Thus, if anyone asks me which of these opinions
was the meaning of thy servant Moses, these would not be my confessions did I not
confess to thee that I do not know. Yet I do know that those opinions are true--with
the exception of the carnal ones--about which I have said what I thought was
proper. Yet those little ones of good hope are not frightened by these words of thy
Book, for they speak of high things in a lowly way and of a few basic things in many
varied ways. But let all of us, whom I acknowledge to see and speak the truth in
these words, love one another and also love thee, our God, O Fountain of Truth--as
we will if we thirst not after vanity but for the Fountain of Truth. Indeed, let us so
honor this servant of thine, the dispenser of this Scripture, full of thy Spirit, so that
we will believe that when thou didst reveal thyself to him, and he wrote these
things down, he intended through them what will chiefly minister both for the light
of truth and to the increase of our fruitfulness.
CHAPTER XXXI
42. Thus, when one man says, “Moses meant what I mean,” and another says,
“No, he meant what I do,” I think that I speak more faithfully when I say, “Why
could he not have meant both if both opinions are true?” And if there should be still
a third truth or a fourth one, and if anyone should seek a truth quite different in
those words, why would it not be right to believe that Moses saw all these different
truths, since through him the one God has tempered the Holy Scriptures to the
understanding of many different people, who should see truths in it even if they are
different? Certainly--and I say this fearlessly and from my heart--if I were to write
anything on such a supreme authority, I would prefer to write it so that, whatever
of truth anyone might apprehend from the matter under discussion, my words
should re-echo in the several minds rather than that they should set down one true
opinion so clearly on one point that I should exclude the rest, even though they
contained no falsehood that offended me. Therefore, I am unwilling, O my God, to be
so headstrong as not to believe that this man [Moses] has received at least this
much from thee. Surely when he was writing these words, he saw fully and
understood all the truth we have been able to find in them, and also much besides
that we have not been able to discern, or are not yet able to find out, though it is
there in them still to be found.
CHAPTER XXXII
43. Finally, O Lord--who art God and not flesh and blood--if any man sees
anything less, can anything lie hid from “thy good Spirit” who shall “lead me into
the land of uprightness,”503 which thou thyself, through those words, wast revealing
to future readers, even though he through whom they were spoken fixed on only one
among the many interpretations that might have been found? And if this is so, let it
be agreed that the meaning he saw is more exalted than the others. But to us, O
Lord, either point out the same meaning or any other true one, as it pleases thee.
Thus, whether thou makest known to us what thou madest known to that man of
thine, or some other meaning by the agency of the same words, still do thou feed us
and let error not deceive us. Behold, O Lord, my God, how much we have written
concerning these few words--how much, indeed! What strength of mind, what length
of time, would suffice for all thy books to be interpreted in this fashion?504 Allow me,
therefore, in these concluding words to confess more briefly to thee and select some
one, true, certain, and good sense that thou shalt inspire, although many meanings
offer themselves and many indeed are possible.505 This is the faith of my confession,
that if I could say what thy servant meant, that is truest and best, and for that I
must strive. Yet if I do not succeed, may it be that I shall say at least what thy
Truth wished to say to me through its words, just as it said what it wished to Moses.
503Cf. Ps. 143:10.
504Something of an understatement! It is interesting to note that Augustine devotes more time and
space to these opening verses of Genesis than to any other passage in the entire Bible--and he never
commented on the full text of Genesis. Cf. Karl Barth's 274 pages devoted to Gen., chs. 1;2, in the
Kirchliche Dogmatik, III, I, pp. 103-377.
505Transition, in preparation for the concluding book (XIII), which undertakes a constructive
resolution to the problem of the analysis of the mode of creation made here in Bk. XII.
BOOK THIRTEEN
The mysteries and allegories of the days of creation. Augustine undertakes to
interpret Gen. 1:2-31 in a mystical and allegorical fashion so as to exhibit the
profundities of God’s power and wisdom and love. He is also interested in developing
his theories of hermeneutics on his favorite topic: creation. He finds the Trinity in the
account of creation and he ponders the work of the Spirit moving over the waters. In
the firmament he finds the allegory of Holy Scripture and in the dry land and bitter
sea he finds the division between the people of God and the conspiracy of the
unfaithful. He develops the theme of man’s being made in the image and likeness of
God. He brings his survey to a climax and his confessions to an end with a
meditation on the goodness of all creation and the promised rest and blessedness of
the eternal Sabbath, on which God, who is eternal rest, “rested.”
CHAPTER I
1. I call on thee, my God, my Mercy, who madest me and didst not forget me,
though I was forgetful of thee. I call thee into my soul, which thou didst prepare for
thy reception by the desire which thou inspirest in it. Do not forsake me when I call
on thee, who didst anticipate me before I called and who didst repeatedly urge with
manifold calling that I should hear thee afar off and be turned and call upon thee,
who callest me. For thou, O Lord, hast blotted out all my evil deserts, not punishing
me for what my hands have done; and thou hast anticipated all my good deserts so
as to recompense me for what thy hands have done--the hands which made me.
Before I was, thou wast, and I was not anything at all that thou shouldst grant me
being. Yet, see how I exist by reason of thy goodness, which made provision for all
that thou madest me to be and all that thou madest me from. For thou didst not
stand in need of me, nor am I the kind of good entity which could be a help to thee,
my Lord and my God. It is not that I may serve thee as if thou wert fatigued in
working, or as if thy power would be the less if it lacked my assistance. Nor is the
service I pay thee like the cultivation of a field, so that thou wouldst go untended if I
did not tend thee.506 Instead, it is that I may serve and worship thee to the end that
I may have my well-being from thee, from whom comes my capacity for well-being.
CHAPTER II
2. Indeed, it is from the fullness of thy goodness that thy creation exists at all:
to the end that the created good might not fail to be, even though it can profit thee
nothing, and is nothing of thee nor equal to thee--since its created existence comes
from thee.
For what did the heaven and earth, which thou didst make in the beginning,
ever deserve from thee? Let them declare--these spiritual and corporeal entities,
which thou madest in thy wisdom--let them declare what they merited at thy hands,
so that the inchoate and the formless, whether spiritual or corporeal, would deserve
to be held in being in spite of the fact that they tend toward disorder and extreme
unlikeness to thee? An unformed spiritual entity is more excellent than a formed
corporeal entity; and the corporeal, even when unformed, is more excellent than if it
were simply nothing at all. Still, these formless entities are held in their state of
506This is a compound--and untranslatable--Latin pun: neque ut sic te colam quasi terram, ut sis
uncultus si non te colam.
being by thee, until they are recalled to thy unity and receive form and being from
thee, the one sovereign Good. What have they deserved of thee, since they would not
even be unformed entities except from thee?
3. What has corporeal matter deserved of thee--even in its invisible and
unformed state--since it would not exist even in this state if thou hadst not made it?
And, if it did not exist, it could not merit its existence from thee.
Or, what has that formless spiritual creation deserved of thee--that it should
flow lightlessly like the abyss--since it is so unlike thee and would not exist at all if
it had not been turned by the Word which made it that same Word, and, illumined
by that Word, had been “made light”507 although not as thy equal but only as an
image of that Form [of Light] which is equal to thee? For, in the case of a body, its
being is not the same thing as its being beautiful; else it could not then be a
deformed body. Likewise, in the case of a created spirit, living is not the same state
as living wisely; else it could then be immutably wise. But the true good of every
created thing is always to cleave fast to thee, lest, in turning away from thee, it lose
the light it had received in being turned by thee, and so relapse into a life like that
of the dark abyss.
As for ourselves, who are a spiritual creation by virtue of our souls, when we
turned away from thee, O Light, we were in that former life of darkness; and we toil
amid the shadows of our darkness until--through thy only Son--we become thy
righteousness,508 like the mountains of God. For we, like the great abyss,509 have
been the objects of thy judgments.
CHAPTER III
4. Now what thou saidst in the beginning of the creation--“Let there be light:
and there was light”--I interpret, not unfitly, as referring to the spiritual creation,
because it already had a kind of life which thou couldst illuminate. But, since it had
not merited from thee that it should be a life capable of enlightenment, so neither,
when it already began to exist, did it merit from thee that it should be enlightened.
For neither could its formlessness please thee until it became light--and it became
light, not from the bare fact of existing, but by the act of turning its face to the light
which enlightened it, and by cleaving to it. Thus it owed the fact that it lived, and
lived happily, to nothing whatsoever but thy grace, since it had been turned, by a
change for the better, toward that which cannot be changed for either better or
worse. Thou alone art, because thou alone art without complication. For thee it is
not one thing to live and another thing to live in blessedness; for thou art thyself thy
own blessedness.
CHAPTER IV
5. What, therefore, would there have been lacking in thy good, which thou
thyself art, even if these things had never been made or had remained unformed?
Thou didst not create them out of any lack but out of the plenitude of thy goodness,
507Cf. Enneads, I, 2:4: "What the soul now sees, it certainly always possessed, but as lying in the
darkness. . . . To dispel the darkness and thus come to knowledge of its inner content, it must thrust
toward the light." Compare the notions of the initiative of such movements in the soul in Plotinus
and Augustine.
508Cf. 2 Cor. 5:21.
509Cf. Ps. 36:6 and see also Augustine's Exposition on the Psalms, XXXVI, 8, where he says that "the
great preachers [receivers of God's illumination] are the mountains of God," for they first catch the
light on their summits. The abyss he called "the depth of sin" into which the evil and unfaithful fall.
ordering them and turning them toward form,510 but not because thy joy had to be
perfected by them. For thou art perfect, and their imperfection is displeasing.
Therefore were they perfected by thee and became pleasing to thee--but not as if
thou wert before that imperfect and had to be perfected in their perfection. For thy
good Spirit which moved over the face of the waters511 was not borne up by them as
if he rested on them. For those in whom thy good Spirit is said to rest he actually
causes to rest in himself. But thy incorruptible and immutable will--in itself allsufficient for itself--moved over that life which thou hadst made: in which living is
not at all the same thing as living happily, since that life still lives even as it flows
in its own darkness. But it remains to be turned to him by whom it was made and to
live more and more like “the fountain of life,” and in his light “to see light,”512 and to
be perfected, and enlightened, and made blessed.
CHAPTER V
6. See now,513 how the Trinity appears to me in an enigma. And thou art the
Trinity, O my God, since thou, O Father--in the beginning of our wisdom, that is, in
thy wisdom born of thee, equal and coeternal with thee, that is, thy Son--created the
heaven and the earth. Many things we have said about the heaven of heavens, and
about the earth invisible and unformed, and about the shadowy abyss--speaking of
the aimless flux of its being spiritually deformed unless it is turned to him from
whom it has its life (such as it is) and by his Light comes to be a life suffused with
beauty. Thus it would be a [lower] heaven of that [higher] heaven, which afterward
was made between water and water.514
And now I came to recognize, in the name of God, the Father who made all
these things, and in the term “the Beginning” to recognize the Son, through whom
he made all these things; and since I did believe that my God was the Trinity, I
sought still further in his holy Word, and, behold, “Thy Spirit moved over the
waters.” Thus, see the Trinity, O my God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the Creator
of all creation!
CHAPTER VI
7. But why, O truth-speaking Light? To thee I lift up my heart--let it not
teach me vain notions. Disperse its shadows and tell me, I beseech thee, by that
Love which is our mother; tell me, I beseech thee, the reason why--after the
reference to heaven and to the invisible and unformed earth, and darkness over the
abyss--thy Scripture should then at long last refer to thy Spirit? Was it because it
was appropriate that he should first be shown to us as “moving over”; and this could
not have been said unless something had already been mentioned over which thy
Spirit could be understood as “moving”? For he did not “move over” the Father and
the Son, and he could not properly be said to be “moving over” if he were “moving
over” nothing. Thus, what it was he was “moving over” had to be mentioned first
510Cf. Timaeus, 29D-30A, "He [the Demiurge-Creator] was good: and in the good no jealousy . . . can
ever arise. So, being without jealousy, he desired that all things should come as near as possible to
being like himself. . . . He took over all that is visible . . . and brought it from order to order, since he
judged that order was in every way better" (F. M. Cornford, Plato's Cosmology, New York, 1937, p.
33). Cf. Enneads, V, 4:1, and Athanasius, On the Incarnation, III, 3.
511Cf. Gen. 1:2.
512Cf. Ps. 36:9.
513In this passage in Genesis on the creation.
514Cf. Gen. 1:6.
and he whom it was not proper to mention otherwise than as “moving over” could
then be mentioned. But why was it not fitting that he should have been introduced
in some other way than in this context of “moving over’’?
CHAPTER VII
8. Now let him who is able follow thy apostle with his understanding when he
says, “Thy love is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who is given to
us” 515 and who teacheth us about spiritual gifts516 and showeth us a more excellent
way of love; and who bows his knee unto thee for us, that we may come to the
surpassing knowledge of the love of Christ.517 Thus, from the beginning, he who is
above all was “moving over” the waters.
To whom shall I tell this? How can I speak of the weight of concupiscence
which drags us downward into the deep abyss, and of the love which lifts us up by
thy Spirit who moved over the waters? To whom shall I tell this? How shall I tell it?
For concupiscence and love are not certain “places” into which we are plunged and
out of which we are lifted again. What could be more like, and yet what more
unlike? They are both feelings; they are both loves. The uncleanness of our own
spirit flows downward with the love of worldly care; and the sanctity of thy Spirit
raises us upward by the love of release from anxiety--that we may lift our hearts to
thee where thy Spirit is “moving over the waters.” Thus, we shall have come to that
supreme rest where our souls shall have passed through the waters which give no
standing ground.518
CHAPTER VIII
9. The angels fell, and the soul of man fell; thus they indicate to us the deep
darkness of the abyss, which would have still contained the whole spiritual creation
if thou hadst not said, in the beginning, “Let there be light: and there was light”-and if every obedient mind in thy heavenly city had not adhered to thee and had not
reposed in thy Spirit, which moved immutable over all things mutable. Otherwise,
even the heaven of heavens itself would have been a dark shadow, instead of being,
as it is now, light in the Lord.519 For even in the restless misery of the fallen spirits,
who exhibit their own darkness when they are stripped of the garments of thy light,
thou showest clearly how noble thou didst make the rational creation, for whose rest
and beatitude nothing suffices save thee thyself. And certainly it is not itself
sufficient for its beatitude. For it is thou, O our God, who wilt enlighten our
darkness; from thee shall come our garments of light; and then our darkness shall
be as the noonday. Give thyself to me, O my God, restore thyself to me! See, I love
thee; and if it be too little, let me love thee still more strongly. I cannot measure my
love so that I may come to know how much there is still lacking in me before my life
can run to thy embrace and not be turned away until it is hidden in “the covert of
thy presence.”520 Only this I know, that my existence is my woe except in thee--not
only in my outward life, but also within my inmost self--and all abundance I have
which is not my God is poverty.
515Rom. 5:5.
5161 Cor. 12:1.
517Cf. Eph. 3:14, 19.
518Cf. the Old Latin version of Ps. 123:5.
519Cf. Eph. 5:8.
520Cf. Ps. 31:20.
CHAPTER IX
10. But was neither the Father nor the Son “moving over the waters”? If we
understand this as a motion in space, as a body moves, then not even the Holy
Spirit “moved.” But if we understand the changeless supereminence of the divine
Being above every changeable thing, then Father, Son, and Holy Spirit “moved over
the waters.”
Why, then, is this said of thy Spirit alone? Why is it said of him only--as if he
had been in a “place” that is not a place--about whom alone it is written, “He is thy
gift”? It is in thy gift that we rest. It is there that we enjoy thee. Our rest is our
“place.” Love lifts us up toward that place, and thy good Spirit lifts our lowliness
from the gates of death. 521 Our peace rests in the goodness of will. The body tends
toward its own place by its own gravity. A weight does not tend downward only, but
moves to its own place. Fire tends upward; a stone tends downward. They are
propelled by their own mass; they seek their own places. Oil poured under the water
rises above the water; water poured on oil sinks under the oil. They are moved by
their own mass; they seek their own places. If they are out of order, they are
restless; when their order is restored, they are at rest. My weight is my love. By it I
am carried wherever I am carried. By thy gift,522 we are enkindled and are carried
upward. We burn inwardly and move forward. We ascend thy ladder which is in our
heart, and we sing a canticle of degrees523; we glow inwardly with thy fire--with thy
good fire524--and we go forward because we go up to the peace of Jerusalem525; for I
was glad when they said to me, “Let us go into the house of the Lord.”526 There thy
good pleasure will settle us so that we will desire nothing more than to dwell there
forever.527
CHAPTER X
11. Happy would be that creature who, though it was in itself other than
thou, still had known no other state than this from the time it was made, so that it
was never without thy gift which moves over everything mutable--who had been
borne up by the call in which thou saidst, “Let there be light: and there was
light.”528 For in us there is a distinction between the time when we were darkness
and the time when we were made light. But we are not told what would have been
the case with that creature if the light had not been made. It is spoken of as though
there had been something of flux and darkness in it beforehand so that the cause by
which it was made to be otherwise might be evident. This is to say, by being turned
to the unfailing Light it might become light. Let him who is able understand this;
and let him who is not ask of thee. Why trouble me, as if I could “enlighten every
man that comes into the world”529?
521Cf. Ps. 9:13.
522The Holy Spirit.
523Canticum graduum. Psalms 119 to 133 as numbered in the Vulgate were regarded as a single
series of ascending steps by which the soul moves up toward heaven; cf. The Exposition on the
Psalms, loc. cit.
524Tongues of fire, symbol of the descent of the Holy Spirit; cf. Acts 2:3, 4.
525Cf. Ps. 122:6.
526Ps. 122:1.
527Cf. Ps. 23:6.
528Gen. 1:3.
529John 1:9.
CHAPTER XI
12. Who can understand the omnipotent Trinity? And yet who does not speak
about it, if indeed it is of it that he speaks? Rare is the soul who, when he speaks of
it, also knows of what he speaks. And men contend and strive, but no man sees the
vision of it without peace.
I could wish that men would consider three things which are within
themselves. These three things are quite different from the Trinity, but I mention
them in order that men may exercise their minds and test themselves and come to
realize how different from it they are.530
The three things I speak of are: to be, to know, and to will. For I am, and I
know, and I will. I am a knowing and a willing being; I know that I am and that I
will; and I will to be and to know. In these three functions, therefore, let him who
can see how integral a life is; for there is one life, one mind, one essence. Finally, the
distinction does not separate the things, and yet it is a distinction. Surely a man has
this distinction before his mind; let him look into himself and see, and tell me. But
when he discovers and can say anything about any one of these, let him not think
that he has thereby discovered what is immutable above them all, which is
immutably and knows immutably and wills immutably. But whether there is a
Trinity there because these three functions exist in the one God, or whether all
three are in each Person so that they are each threefold, or whether both these
notions are true and, in some mysterious manner, the Infinite is in itself its own
Selfsame object--at once one and many, so that by itself it is and knows itself and
suffices to itself without change, so that the Selfsame is the abundant magnitude of
its Unity--who can readily conceive? Who can in any fashion express it plainly? Who
can in any way rashly make a pronouncement about it?
CHAPTER XII
13. Go forward in your confession, O my faith; say to the Lord your God,
“Holy, holy, holy, O Lord my God, in thy name we have been baptized, in the name
of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” In thy name we baptize, in the name of the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. For among us also God in his Christ made
“heaven and earth,” namely, the spiritual and carnal members of his Church. And
true it is that before it received “the form of doctrine,” our “earth”531 was “invisible
and unformed,” and we were covered with the darkness of our ignorance; for thou
dost correct man for his iniquity, 532 and “thy judgments are a great abyss.”533 But
because thy Spirit was moving over these waters, thy mercy did not forsake our
wretchedness, and thou saidst, “Let there be light; repent, for the kingdom of
heaven is at hand.”534 Repent, and let there be light. Because our soul was troubled
within us, we remembered thee, O Lord, from the land of Jordan, and from the
mountain535--and as we became displeased with our darkness we turned to thee,
“and there was light.” And behold, we were heretofore in darkness, but now we are
light in the Lord.536
530Cf. the detailed analogy from self to Trinity in De Trinitate, IX-XII.
531I.e., the Church.
532Cf. Ps. 39:11.
533Ps. 36:6.
534Gen. 1:3 and Matt. 4:17; 3:2.
535Cf. Ps. 42:5, 6.
536Cf. Eph. 5:8.
CHAPTER XIII
14. But even so, we still live by faith and not by sight, for we are saved by
hope; but hope that is seen is not hope. Thus far deep calls unto deep, but now in
“the noise of thy waterfalls.”537 And thus far he who said, “I could not speak to you
as if you were spiritual ones, but only as if you were carnal”538--thus far even he
does not count himself to have apprehended, but forgetting the things that are
behind and reaching forth to the things that are before, he presses on to those
things that are ahead,539 and he groans under his burden and his soul thirsts after
the living God as the stag pants for the water brooks,540 and says, “When shall I
come?”541--“desiring to be further clothed by his house which is from heaven.”542
And he called to this lower deep, saying, “Be not conformed to this world, but be
transformed by the renewing of your mind.”543 And “be not children in
understanding, although in malice be children,” in order that “in understanding you
may become perfect.”544 “O foolish Galatians, who has bewitched you?” 545 But this is
not now only in his own voice but in thy voice, who sent thy Spirit from above
through Him who both “ascended up on high”546 and opened up the floodgates of his
gifts, that the force of his streams might make glad the city of God.547
For that city and for him sighs the Bridegroom’s friend,548 who has now the
first fruits of the Spirit laid up with him, but who is still groaning within himself
and waiting for adoption, that is, the redemption of his body.549 To Him he sighs, for
he is a member of the Bride550; for him he is jealous, not for himself, but because not
in his own voice but in the voice of thy waterfalls he calls on that other deep, of
which he is jealous and in fear; for he fears lest, as the serpent seduced Eve by his
subtlety, his mind should be corrupted from the purity which is in our Bridegroom,
thy only Son. What a light of beauty that will be when “we shall see him as he
is”551!--and when these tears shall pass away which “have been my meat day and
night, while they continually say unto me, ‘Where is your God?’”552
CHAPTER XIV
15. And I myself say: “O my God, where art thou? See now, where art thou?”
In thee I take my breath for a little while, when I pour out my soul beyond myself in
the voice of joy and praise, in the voice of him that keeps holyday. 553 And still it is
537Ps. 42:7.
538Cf. 1 Cor. 3:1.
539Cf. Phil. 3:13.
540Cf. Ps. 42:1.
541Ps. 42:2.
542Cf. 2 Cor. 5:1-4.
543Rom. 12:2.
5441 Cor. 14:20.
545Gal. 3:1.
546Eph. 4:8, 9.
547Cf. Ps. 46:4.
548Cf. John 3:29.
549Cf. Rom. 8:23.
550I.e., the Body of Christ.
5511 John 3:2.
552Ps. 42:3.
553Cf. Ps. 42:4.
cast down because it relapses and becomes an abyss, or rather it feels that it still is
an abyss. My faith speaks to my soul--the faith that thou dost kindle to light my
path in the night: “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted
in me? Hope in God.”554 For his word is a lamp to your feet.555 Hope and persevere
until the night passes--that mother of the wicked; until the Lord’s wrath subsides-that wrath whose children once we were, of whom we were beforehand in darkness,
whose residue we still bear about us in our bodies, dead because of sin.556 Hope and
endure until the day breaks and the shadows flee away. 557 Hope in the Lord: in the
morning I shall stand in his presence and keep watch558; I shall forever give praise
to him. In the morning I shall stand and shall see my God, who is the health of my
countenance,559 who also will quicken our mortal bodies by the Spirit that dwells in
us,560 because in mercy he was moving over our lightless and restless inner deep.
From this we have received an earnest, even now in this pilgrimage, that we are
now in the light, since already we are saved by hope and are children of the light
and children of the day--not children of the night, nor of the darkness,561 which we
have been hitherto. Between those children of the night and ourselves, in this still
uncertain state of human knowledge, only thou canst rightly distinguish--thou who
dost test the heart and who dost call the light day, and the darkness night.562 For
who can see us clearly but thee? What do we have that we have not received from
thee, who madest from the same lump some vessels to noble, and others to ignoble,
use563?
CHAPTER XV
16. Now who but thee, our God, didst make for us that firmament of the
authority of thy divine Scripture to be over us? For “the heaven shall be folded up
like a scroll”564; but now it is stretched over us like a skin. Thy divine Scripture is of
more sublime authority now that those mortal men through whom thou didst
dispense it to us have departed this life. And thou knowest, O Lord, thou knowest
how thou didst clothe men with skins when they became mortal because of sin.565 In
something of the same way, thou hast stretched out the firmament of thy Book as a
skin--that is to say, thou hast spread thy harmonious words over us through the
ministry of mortal men. For by their very death that solid firmament of authority in
thy sayings, spoken forth by them, stretches high over all that now drift under it;
whereas while they lived on earth their authority was not so widely extended. Then
thou hadst not yet spread out the heaven like a skin; thou hadst not yet spread
abroad everywhere the fame of their death.
17. Let us see, O Lord, “the heavens, the work of thy fingers,”566 and clear
554Ps. 43:5.
555Cf. Ps. 119:105.
556Cf. Rom. 8:10.
557Cf. S. of Sol. 2:17.
558Cf. Ps. 5:3.
559Ps. 43:5.
560Cf. Rom. 8:11.
5611 Thess. 5:5.
562Cf. Gen. 1:5.
563Cf. Rom. 9:21.
564Isa. 34:4.
565Cf. Gen. 3:21.
566Ps. 8:3.
away from our eyes the fog with which thou hast covered them. In them567 is that
testimony of thine which gives wisdom even to the little ones. O my God, out of the
mouth of babes and sucklings, perfect thy praise. 568 For we know no other books
that so destroy man’s pride, that so break down the adversary and the self-defender
who resists thy reconciliation by an effort to justify his own sins. I do not know, O
Lord, I do not know any other such pure words that so persuade me to confession
and make my neck submissive to thy yoke, and invite me to serve thee for nothing
else than thy own sake. Let me understand these things, O good Father. Grant this
to me, since I am placed under them; for thou hast established these things for
those placed under them.
18. There are other waters that are above this firmament, and I believe that
they are immortal and removed from earthly corruption. Let them praise thy name-this super-celestial society, thy angels, who have no need to look up at this
firmament or to gain a knowledge of thy Word by reading it--let them praise thee.
For they always behold thy face and read therein, without any syllables in time,
what thy eternal will intends. They read, they choose, they love.569 They are always
reading, and what they read never passes away. For by choosing and by loving they
read the very immutability of thy counsel. Their book is never closed, nor is the
scroll folded up, because thou thyself art this to them, and art this to them
eternally; because thou didst range them above this firmament which thou madest
firm over the infirmities of the people below the heavens, where they might look up
and learn thy mercy, which proclaims in time thee who madest all times. “For thy
mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens, and thy faithfulness reaches to the clouds.”570 The
clouds pass away, but the heavens remain. The preachers of thy Word pass away
from this life into another; but thy Scripture is spread abroad over the people, even
to the end of the world. Indeed, both heaven and earth shall pass away, but thy
words shall never pass away.571 The scroll shall be rolled together, and the “grass”
over which it was spread shall, with all its goodliness, pass away; but thy Word
remains forever572--thy Word which now appears to us in the dark image of the
clouds and through the glass of heaven, and not as it really is. And even if we are
the well-beloved of thy Son, it has not yet appeared what we shall be.573 He hath
seen us through the entanglement574 of our flesh, and he is fair-speaking, and he
hath enkindled us, and we run after his fragrance.575 But “when he shall appear,
then we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.’’576 As he is, O Lord, we
shall see him--although that time is not yet.
CHAPTER XVI
19. For just as thou art the utterly Real, thou alone dost fully know, since
thou art immutably, and thou knowest immutably, and thou willest immutably.
567"The heavens," i.e. the Scriptures.
568Cf. Ps. 8:2.
569Legunt, eligunt, diligunt.
570Ps. 36:5.
571Cf. Matt. 24:35.
572Cf. Isa. 40:6-8.
573Cf. 1 John 3:2.
574Retia, literally "a net"; such as those used by retiarii, the gladiators who used nets to entangle
their opponents.
575Cf. S. of Sol. 1:3, 4.
5761 John 3:2.
And thy Essence knows and wills immutably. Thy Knowledge is and wills
immutably. Thy Will is and knows immutably. And it does not seem right to thee
that the immutable Light should be known by the enlightened but mutable creature
in the same way as it knows itself. Therefore, to thee my soul is as a land where no
water is577; for, just as it cannot enlighten itself by itself, so it cannot satisfy itself
by itself. Thus the fountain of life is with thee, and “in thy light shall we see
light.”578
CHAPTER XVII
20. Who has gathered the “embittered ones” 579 into a single society? For they
all have the same end, which is temporal and earthly happiness. This is their
motive for doing everything, although they may fluctuate within an innumerable
diversity of concerns. Who but thee, O Lord, gathered them together, thou who
saidst, “Let the waters be gathered together into one place and let the dry land
appear”--athirst for thee? For the sea also is thine, and thou madest it, and thy
hands formed the dry land.580 For it is not the bitterness of men’s wills but the
gathering together of the waters which is called “the sea”; yet thou dost curb the
wicked lusts of men’s souls and fix their bounds: how far they are allowed to
advance, and where their waves will be broken against each other--and thus thou
makest it “a sea,” by the providence of thy governance of all things.
21. But as for the souls that thirst after thee and who appear before thee-separated from “the society of the [bitter] sea” by reason of their different ends-thou waterest them by a secret and sweet spring, so that “the earth” may bring
forth her fruit and--thou, O Lord, commanding it--our souls may bud forth in works
of mercy after their kind.581 Thus we shall love our neighbor in ministering to his
bodily needs, for in this way the soul has seed in itself after its kind when in our
own infirmity our compassion reaches out to the relief of the needy, helping them
even as we would desire to be helped ourselves if we were in similar need. Thus we
help, not only in easy problems (as is signified by “the herb yielding its seed”) but
also in the offering of our best strength in affording them the aid of protection (such
as “the tree bearing its fruit”). This is to say, we seek to rescue him who is suffering
injury from the hands of the powerful--furnishing him with the sheltering protection
which comes from the strong arm of a righteous judgment.582
CHAPTER XVIII
22. Thus, O Lord, thus I beseech thee: let it happen as thou hast prepared it,
as thou givest joy and the capacity for joy. Let truth spring up out of the earth, and
let righteousness look down from heaven, 583 and let there be lights in the
577Cf. Ps. 63:1.
578Ps. 36:9.
579Amaricantes, a figure which Augustine develops both in the Exposition of the Psalms and The
City of God. Commenting on Ps. 65, Augustine says: "For the sea, by a figure, is used to indicate this
world, with its bitter saltiness and troubled storms, where men with perverse and depraved
appetites have become like fishes devouring one another." In The City of God, he speaks of the
bitterness of life in the civitas terrena; cf. XIX, 5.
580Cf. Ps. 95:5.
581Cf. Gen. 1:10f.
582In this way, Augustine sees an analogy between the good earth bearing its fruits and the ethical
"fruit-bearing" of the Christian love of neighbor.
583Cf. Ps. 85:11.
firmament.584
Let us break our bread with the hungry, let us bring the shelterless poor to
our house; let us clothe the naked, and never despise those of our own flesh.585 See
from the fruits which spring forth from the earth how good it is. Thus let our
temporal light break forth, and let us from even this lower level of fruitful action
come to the joy of contemplation and hold on high the Word of Life. And let us at
length appear like “lights in the world,”586 cleaving to the firmament of thy
Scripture.
For in it thou makest it plain to us how we may distinguish between things
intelligible and things tangible, as if between the day and the night--and to
distinguish between souls who give themselves to things of the mind and others
absorbed in things of sense. Thus it is that now thou art not alone in the secret of
thy judgment as thou wast before the firmament was made, and before thou didst
divide between the light and the darkness. But now also thy spiritual children,
placed and ranked in this same firmament--thy grace being thus manifest
throughout the world--may shed light upon the earth, and may divide between the
day and night, and may be for the signs of the times587; because old things have
passed away, and, lo, all things are become new588; and because our salvation is
nearer than when we believed; and because “the night is far spent and the day is at
hand”589; and because “thou crownest the year with blessing,”590 sending the
laborers into thy harvest, in which others have labored in the sowing and sending
laborers also to make new sowings whose harvest shall not be until the end of time.
Thus thou dost grant the prayers of him who seeks, and thou dost bless the years of
the righteous man. But thou art always the Selfsame, and in thy years which fail
not thou preparest a granary for our transient years. For by an eternal design thou
spreadest the heavenly blessings on the earth in their proper seasons.
23. For “to one there is given by thy Spirit the word of wisdom”591 (which
resembles the greater light--which is for those whose delight is in the clear light of
truth--as the light which is given for the ruling of the day592). But to another the
word of knowledge is given by the same Spirit (as it were, the “lesser light”); to
another, faith; to another, the gift of healing; to another, the power of working
miracles; to another, the gift of prophecy; to another, the discerning of spirits; to
another, other kinds of tongues--and all these gifts may be compared to “the stars.”
For in them all the one and selfsame Spirit is at work, dividing to every man his
own portion, as He wills, and making stars to appear in their bright splendor for the
profit of souls. But the word of knowledge, scientia, in which is contained all the
mysteries593 which change in their seasons like the moon; and all the other
promises of gifts, which when counted are like the stars--all of these fall short of
584Cf. Gen. 1:14.
585Cf. Isa. 58:7.
586Cf. Phil. 2:15.
587Cf. Gen. 1:19.
588Cf. 2 Cor. 5:17.
589Cf. Rom. 13:11, 12.
590Ps. 65:11.
591For this whole passage, cf. the parallel developed here with 1 Cor. 12:7-11.
592In principio diei, an obvious echo to the Vulgate ut praesset diei of Gen. 1:16. Cf. Gibb and
Montgomery, p. 424 (see Bibl.), for a comment on in principio diei and in principio noctis, below.
593Sacramenta; but cf. Augustine's discussion of sacramenta in the Old Testament in the Exposition
of the Psalms, LXXIV, 2: "The sacraments of the Old Testament promised a Saviour; the sacraments
of the New Testament give salvation."
that splendor of Wisdom in which the day rejoices and are only for the ruling of the
night. Yet they are necessary for those to whom thy most prudent servant could not
speak as to the spiritually mature, but only as if to carnal men--even though he
could speak wisdom among the perfect.594 Still the natural man--as a babe in
Christ, and a drinker of milk, until he is strong enough for solid meat, and his eye is
able to look into the sun--do not leave him in a lightless night. Instead, let him be
satisfied with the light of the moon and the stars. In thy book thou dost discuss
these things with us wisely, our God--in thy book, which is thy “firmament”--in
order that we may be able to view all things in admiring contemplation, although
thus far we must do so through signs and seasons and in days and years.
CHAPTER XIX
24. But, first, “wash yourselves and make you clean; put away iniquity from
your souls and from before my eyes”595--so that “the dry land” may appear. “Learn
to do well, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow,”596 that the earth may bring
forth the green herb for food and fruit-bearing trees. “And come, let us reason
together, saith the Lord”597--that there may be lights in the firmament of heaven
and that they may shine upon the earth.
There was that rich man who asked of the good Teacher what he should do to
attain eternal life. Let the good Teacher (whom the rich man thought a man and
nothing more) give him an answer--he is good for he is God. Let him answer him
that, if he would enter into life, he must keep the commandments: let him put away
from himself the bitterness of malice and wickedness; let him not kill, nor commit
adultery, nor steal, nor bear false witness598--that “the dry land” may appear and
bring forth the honoring of fathers and mothers and the love of neighbor. “All
these,” he replied, “I have kept.” Where do so many thorns come from, if the earth is
really fruitful? uproot the brier patch of avarice; “sell what you have, and be filled
with fruit by giving to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and follow”
the Lord if you would be perfect and joined with those in whose midst he speaketh
wisdom--who know how to give rightly to the day and to the night--and you will also
understand, so that for you also there may be lights in the firmament of heaven-which will not be there, however, unless your heart is there also. And your heart
will not be there unless your treasure is there,599 as you have heard from the good
Teacher. But “the barren earth”600 was grieved, and the briers choked the word. 601
25. But you, O elect people, set in the firmament of the world, 602 who have
forsaken all that you may follow the Lord: follow him now, and confound the
mighty! Follow him, O beautiful feet,603 and shine in the firmament, that the
heavens may declare his glory, dividing the light of the perfect ones604--though not
594Cf. 1 Cor. 3:1; 2:6.
595Isa. 1:16.
596Isa. 1:17.
597Isa. 1:18.
598Cf. for this syntaxis, Matt. 19:16-22 and Ex. 20:13-16.
599Cf. Matt. 6:21.
600I.e., the rich young ruler.
601Cf. Matt. 13:7.
602Cf. Matt. 97 Reading here, with Knöll and the Sessorianus, in firmamento mundi.
603Cf. Isa. 52:7.
604Perfectorum. Is this a conscious use, in a Christian context, of the distinction he had known so
well among the Manicheans--between the perfecti and the auditores?
yet so perfect as the angels--from the darkness of the little ones--who are
nevertheless not utterly despised. Shine over all the earth, and let the day be
lighted by the sun, utter the Word of wisdom to the day (“day unto day utters
speech”605) and let the night, lighted by the moon, display the Word of knowledge to
the night. The moon and the stars give light for the night; the night does not put
them out, and they illumine in its proper mode. For lo, it is as if God were saying,
“Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven”: and suddenly there came a
sound from heaven, as if it were a rushing mighty wind, and there appeared cloven
tongues of fire, and they sat on each of them.606 And then they were made to be
lights in the firmament of heaven, having the Word of life. Run to and fro
everywhere, you holy fires, you lovely fires, for you are the light of the world and
you are not to be hid under a peck measure.607 He to whom you cleave is raised on
high, and he hath raised you on high. Run to and fro; make yourselves known
among all the nations!
CHAPTER XX
26. Also let the sea conceive and bring forth your works, and let the waters
bear the moving creatures that have life.608 For by separating the precious from the
vile you are made the mouth of God 609 by whom he said, “Let the waters bring
forth.” This does not refer to the living creatures which the earth brings forth, but to
the creeping creatures that have life and the fowls that fly over the earth. For, by
the ministry of thy holy ones, thy mysteries have made their way amid the buffeting
billows of the world, to instruct the nations in thy name, in thy Baptism. And
among these things many great and marvelous works have been wrought, which are
analogous to the huge whales. The words of thy messengers have gone flying over
the earth, high in the firmament of thy Book which is spread over them as the
authority beneath which they are to fly wheresoever they go. For “there is no speech
nor language where their voice is not heard,” because “their sound has gone out
through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world”610--and this because
thou, O Lord, hast multiplied these things by thy blessing.
27. Am I speaking falsely? Am I mingling and confounding and not rightly
distinguishing between the knowledge of these things in the firmament of heaven
and those corporeal works in the swelling sea and beneath the firmament of
heaven? For there are those things, the knowledge of which is solid and defined. It
does not increase from generation to generation and thus they stand, as it were, as
lights of wisdom and knowledge. But there are many and varied physical processes
that manifest these selfsame principles. And thus one thing growing from another is
multiplied by thy blessing, O God, who dost so refresh our easily wearied mortal
senses that in our mental cognition a single thing may be figured and signified in
many different ways by different bodily motions.
“The waters” have brought forth these mysteries, but only at thy word. The
needs of the people who were alien to the eternity of thy truth have called them
forth, but only in thy gospel, since it was these “waters” which cast them up--the
waters whose stagnant bitterness was the reason why they came forth through thy
605Ps. 19:2.
606Cf. Acts 2:2, 3.
607Cf. Matt. 5:14, 15.
608Cf. Gen. 1:20.
609Cf. Jer. 15:19.
610Ps. 19:4.
Word.
28. Now all the things that thou hast made are fair, and yet, lo, thou who
didst make all things art inexpressibly fairer. And if Adam had not fallen away from
thee, that brackish sea--the human race--so deeply prying, so boisterously swelling,
so restlessly moving, would never have flowed forth from his belly. Thus, there
would have been no need for thy ministers to use corporeal and tangible signs in the
midst of many “waters” in order to show forth their mystical deeds and words. For
this is the way I interpret the phrases “creeping creatures” and “flying fowl.” Still,
men who have been instructed and initiated and made dependent on thy corporeal
mysteries would not be able to profit from them if it were not that their soul has a
higher life and unless, after the word of its admission, it did not look beyond toward
its perfection.
CHAPTER XXI
29. And thus, in thy Word, it was not the depth of the sea but “the earth,”611
separated from the brackishness of the water, that brought forth, not “the creeping
and the flying creature that has life,” but “the living soul” itself!612
And now this soul no longer has need of baptism, as the heathen had, or as it
did when it was covered with the waters--and there can be no other entrance into
the Kingdom of Heaven, since thou hast appointed that baptism should be the
entrance. Nor does it seek great, miraculous works by which to buttress faith. For
such a soul does not refuse to believe unless it sees signs and marvels, now that “the
faithful earth” is separated from “the waters” of the sea, which have been made
bitter by infidelity. Thus, for them, “tongues are for a sign, not to those who believe
but to those who do not believe.”613
And the earth which thou hast founded above the waters does not stand in
need of those flying creatures which the waters brought forth at thy word. Send
forth thy word into it by the agency of thy messengers. For we only tell of their
works, but it is thou who dost the works in them, so that they may bring forth “a
living soul” in the earth.
The earth brings forth “the living soul” because “the earth” is the cause of
such things being done by thy messengers, just as the sea was the cause of the
production of the creeping creatures having life and the flying fowl under the
firmament of heaven. “The earth” no longer needs them, although it feeds on the
Fish which was taken out of the deep, 614 set out on that table which thou preparest
in the presence of those who believe. To this end he was raised from the deep: that
he might feed “the dry land.” And “the fowl,” even though they were bred in the sea,
will yet be multiplied on the earth. The preaching of the first evangelists was called
forth by reason of man’s infidelity, but the faithful also are exhorted and blessed by
them in manifold ways, day by day. “The living soul” has its origin from “the earth,”
because only to the faithful is there any profit in restraining themselves from the
love of this world, so that their soul may live to thee. This soul was dead while it
was living in pleasures--in pleasures that bear death in them--whereas thou, O
611That is, the Church.
612An allegorical ideal type of the perfecti in the Church.
6131 Cor. 14:22.
614The fish was an early Christian rebus for "Jesus Christ." The Greek word for fish, ιχθυζ, was
arranged acrostically to make the phrase Ιησουζ Χριστοσ, Θεου Υιοζ, Σωτηρ; cf. Smith and
Cheetham, Dictionary of Christian Antiquities, pp. 673f.; see also Cabrol, Dictionnaire d'archéologie
chrétienne, Vol. 14, cols. 1246-1252, for a full account of the symbolism and pictures of early
examples.
Lord, art the living delight of the pure heart.
30. Now, therefore, let thy ministers do their work on “the earth”--not as they
did formerly in “the waters” of infidelity, when they had to preach and speak by
miracles and mysteries and mystical expressions, in which ignorance--the mother of
wonder--gives them an attentive ear because of its fear of occult and strange things.
For this is the entry into faith for the sons of Adam who are forgetful of thee, who
hide themselves from thy face, and who have become a darkened abyss. Instead, let
thy ministers work even as on “the dry land,” safe from the whirlpools of the abyss.
Let them be an example unto the faithful by living before them and stirring them
up to imitation.
For in such a setting, men will heed, not with the mere intent to hear, but
also to act. Seek the Lord and your soul shall live615 and “the earth” may bring forth
“the living soul.” Be not conformed to this world;616 separate yourselves from it. The
soul lives by avoiding those things which bring death if they are loved. Restrain
yourselves from the unbridled wildness of pride, from the indolent passions of
luxury, and from what is falsely called knowledge.617 Thus may the wild beast be
tamed, the cattle subdued, and the serpent made harmless. For, in allegory, these
figures are the motions of our mind: that is to say, the haughtiness of pride, the
delight of lust, and the poison of curiosity are motions of the dead soul--not so dead
that it has lost all motion, but dead because it has deserted the fountain of life, and
so has been taken up by this transitory world and conformed to it.
31. But thy Word, O God, is a fountain of life eternal, and it does not pass
away. Therefore, this desertion is restrained by thy Word when it says to us, “Be not
conformed to this world,” to the end that “the earth” may bring forth a “living soul”
in the fountain of life--a soul disciplined by thy Word, by thy evangelists, by the
following of the followers of thy Christ. For this is the meaning of “after his kind.” A
man tends to follow the example of his friend. Thus, he [Paul] says, “Become as I
am, because I have become as you are.” 618
Thus, in this “living soul” there shall be good beasts, acting meekly. For thou
hast commanded this, saying: “Do your work in meekness and you shall be loved by
all men.” 619 And the cattle will be good, for if they eat much they shall not suffer
from satiety; and if they do not eat at all they will suffer no lack. And the serpents
will be good, not poisonous to do harm, but only cunning in their watchfulness-exploring only as much of this temporal nature as is necessary in order that the
eternal nature may “be clearly seen, understood through the things that have been
made.”620 For all these animals will obey reason when, having been restrained from
their death-dealing ways, they live and become good.
CHAPTER XXII
32. Thus, O Lord, our God, our Creator, when our affections have been turned
from the love of the world, in which we died by living ill; and when we began to be
“a living soul” by living well; and when the word, “Be not conformed to this world,”
which thou didst speak through thy apostle, has been fulfilled in us, then will follow
what thou didst immediately add when thou saidst, “But be transformed by the
615Cf. Ps. 69:32.
616Cf. Rom. 12:2.
617Cf. 1 Tim. 6:20.
618Gal. 4:12.
619Cf. Ecclus. 3:19.
620Rom. 1:20.
renewing of your mind.”621 This will not now be “after their kind,” as if we were
following the neighbor who went before us, or as if we were living after the example
of a better man--for thou didst not say, “Let man be made after his kind,” but
rather, “Let us make man in our own image and our own likeness,”622 so that then
we may be able to prove what thy will is.
This is why thy minister--begetting children by the gospel so that he might
not always have them babes whom he would have to feed with milk and nurse as
children--this is why he said, “Be transformed by the renewing of your minds, that
you may prove what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God.”623
Therefore thou didst not say, “Let man be made,” but rather, “Let us make man.”
And thou didst not say, “After his kind,” but after “our image” and “likeness.”
Indeed, it is only when man has been renewed in his mind, and comes to behold and
apprehend thy truth, that he does not need another man as his director, to show
him how to imitate human examples. Instead, by thy guidance, he proves what is
thy good and acceptable and perfect will. And thou dost teach him, now that he is
able to understand, to see the trinity of the Unity and the unity of the Trinity.
This is why the statement in the plural, “Let us make man,” is also connected
with the statement in the singular, “And God made man.” Thus it is said in the
plural, “After our likeness,” and then in the singular, “After the image of God.” Man
is thus transformed in the knowledge of God, according to the image of Him who
created him. And now, having been made spiritual, he judges all things--that is, all
things that are appropriate to be judged--and he himself is judged of no man.624
CHAPTER XXIII
33. Now this phrase, “he judges all things,” means that man has dominion
over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over all cattle and wild
beasts, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps on the
earth. And he does this by the power of reason in his mind by which he perceives
“the things of the Spirit of God.”625 But, when man was put in this high office, he
did not understand what was involved and thus was reduced to the level of the
brute beasts, and made like them.626
Therefore in thy Church, O our God, by the grace thou hast given us--since
we are thy workmanship, created in good works (not only those who are in spiritual
authority but also those who are spiritually subject to them)--thou madest man
male and female. Here all are equal in thy spiritual grace where, as far as sex is
concerned, there is neither male nor female, just as there is neither Jew nor Greek,
nor bond nor free. Spiritual men, therefore, whether those who are in authority or
those who are subject to authority, judge spiritually. They do not judge by the light
of that spiritual knowledge which shines in the firmament, for it is inappropriate for
them to judge by so sublime an authority. Nor does it behoove them to judge
concerning thy Book itself, although there are some things in it which are not clear.
Instead, we submit our understanding to it and believe with certainty that what is
hidden from our sight is still rightly and truly spoken. In this way, even though a
man is now spiritual and renewed by the knowledge of God according to the image
621Rom. 12:2.
622Gen. 1:26.
623Rom. 12:2 (mixed text).
624Cf. 1 Cor. 2:15.
6251 Cor. 2:14.
626Cf. Ps. 49:20.
of him who created him, he must be a doer of the law rather than its judge. 627
Neither does the spiritual man judge concerning that division between spiritual and
carnal men which is known to thy eyes, O God, and which may not, as yet, be made
manifest to us by their external works, so that we may know them by their fruits;
yet thou, O God, knowest them already and thou hast divided and called them
secretly, before the firmament was made. Nor does a man, even though he is
spiritual, judge the disordered state of society in this world. For what business of
his is it to judge those who are without, since he cannot know which of them may
later on come into the sweetness of thy grace, and which of them may continue in
the perpetual bitterness of their impiety?
34. Man, then, even if he was made after thy own image, did not receive the
power of dominion over the lights of heaven, nor over the secret heaven, nor over
the day and the night which thou calledst forth before the creation of the heaven,
nor over the gathering together of the waters which is the sea. Instead, he received
dominion over the fish of the sea, and the fowls of the air; and over all cattle, and all
the earth; and over all creeping things which creep on the earth.
Indeed, he judges and approves what he finds right and disapproves what he
finds amiss, whether in the celebration of those mysteries by which are initiated
those whom thy mercy hast sought out in the midst of many waters; or in that
sacrament in which is exhibited the Fish itself628 which, being raised from the
depths, the pious “earth” 629 feeds upon; or, in the signs and symbols of words, which
are subject to the authority of thy Book--such signs as burst forth and sound from
the mouth, as if it were “flying” under the firmament, interpreting, expounding,
discoursing, disputing, blessing, invoking thee, so that the people may answer,
“Amen.”630 The reason that all these words have to be pronounced vocally is because
of the abyss of this world and the blindness of our flesh in which thoughts cannot be
seen directly,631 but have to be spoken aloud in our ears. Thus, although the flying
fowl are multiplied on the earth, they still take their origins from the waters.
The spiritual man also judges by approving what is right and reproving what
he finds amiss in the works and morals of the faithful, such as in their almsgiving,
which is signified by the phrase, “The earth bringing forth its fruit.” And he judges
of the “living soul,” which is then made to live by the disciplining of her affections in
chastity, in fasting, and in holy meditation. And he also judges concerning all those
things which are perceived by the bodily senses. For it can be said that he should
judge in all matters about which he also has the power of correction.
CHAPTER XXIV
35. But what is this; what kind of mystery is this? Behold, O Lord, thou dost
bless men in order that they may be “fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth.”
In this art thou not making a sign to us that we may understand something
[allegorically]? Why didst thou not also bless the light, which thou calledst “the
day,” nor the firmament of heaven, nor the lights, nor the stars, nor the earth, nor
the sea? I might reply, O our God, that thou in creating us after thy own image--I
might reply that thou didst will to bestow this gift of blessing upon man alone, if
thou hadst not similarly blessed the fishes and the whales, so that they too should
627Cf. James 4:11.
628See above, Ch. XXI, 30.
629I.e., the Church.
630Cf. 1 Cor. 14:16.
631Another reminder that, ideally, knowledge is immediate and direct.
be fruitful and multiply and replenish the waters of the sea; and also the fowls, so
that they should be multiplied on the earth. In like fashion, I might say that this
blessing properly belonged only to such creatures as are propagated from their own
kind, if I could find it given also as a blessing to trees, and plants, and the beasts of
the earth. But this “increase and multiply” was not said to plants or trees or beasts
or serpents--although all of these, along with fishes and birds and men, do actually
increase by propagation and so preserve their species.
36. What, then, shall I say, O Truth, O my Life: that it was idly and vainly
said? Surely not this, O Father of piety; far be it from a servant of thy Word to say
anything like this! But if I do not understand what thou meanest by that phrase, let
those who are better than I--that is, those more intelligent than I--interpret it
better, in the degree that thou hast given each of us the ability to understand.
But let also my confession be pleasing in thy eyes, for I confess to thee that I
believe, O Lord, that thou hast not spoken thus in vain. Nor will I be silent as to
what my reading has suggested to me. For it is valid, and I do not see anything to
prevent me from thus interpreting the figurative sayings in thy books. For I know
that a thing that is understood in only one way in the mind may be expressed in
many different ways by the body; and I know that a thing that has only one manner
of expression through the body may be understood in the mind in many different
ways. For consider this single example--the love of God and of our neighbor--by how
many different mysteries and countless languages, and, in each language, by how
many different ways of speaking, this is signified corporeally! In similar fashion, the
“young fish” in “the waters” increase and multiply. On the other hand, whoever you
are who reads this, observe and behold what Scripture declares, and how the voice
pronounces it in only one way, “In the beginning God created heaven and earth.”632
Is this not understood in many different ways by different kinds of true
interpretations which do not involve the deceit of error? Thus the offspring of men
are fruitful and do multiply.633
37. If, then, we consider the nature of things, in their strictly literal sense,
and not allegorically, the phrase, “Be fruitful and multiply,” applies to all things
that are begotten by seed. But if we treat these words figuratively, as I judge that
the Scripture intended them to be--since it cannot be for nothing that this blessing
is attributed only to the offspring of marine life and man--then we discover that the
characteristic of fecundity belongs also to the spiritual and physical creations
(which are signified by “heaven and earth”), and also in righteous and unrighteous
souls (which are signified by “light and darkness”) and in the sacred writers through
whom the law is uttered (who are signified by “the firmament established between
the waters and the waters”); and in the earthly commonwealth still steeped in their
bitterness (which is signified by “the sea”); and in the zeal of holy souls (signified by
“the dry land”); and the works of mercy done in this present life (signified by “the
seed-bearing herbs and fruit-bearing trees”); and in spiritual gifts which shine out
for our edification (signified by “the lights of heaven”); and to human affections
ruled by temperance (signified by “the living soul”). In all these instances we meet
with multiplicity and fertility and increase; but the particular way in which “Be
fruitful and multiply” can be exemplified differs widely. Thus a single category may
632Here, again, as in a coda, Augustine restates his central theme and motif in the whole of his
"confessions": the primacy of God, His constant creativity, his mysterious, unwearied, unfrustrated
redemptive love. All are summed up in this mystery of creation in which the purposes of God are
announced and from which all Christian hope takes its premise.
633That is, from basic and essentially simple ideas, they proliferate multiple--and valid--implications
and corollaries.
include many things, and we cannot discover them except through their signs
displayed corporeally and by the things being excogitated by the mind.
We thus interpret the phrase, “The generation of the waters,” as referring to
the corporeally expressed signs [of fecundity], since they are made necessary by the
degree of our involvement in the flesh. But the power of human generation refers to
the process of mental conception; this we see in the fruitfulness of reason.
Therefore, we believe that to both of these two kinds it has been said by thee, O
Lord, “Be fruitful and multiply.” In this blessing, I recognize that thou hast granted
us the faculty and power not only to express what we understand by a single idea in
many different ways but also to understand in many ways what we find expressed
obscurely in a single statement. Thus the waters of the sea are replenished, and
their waves are symbols of diverse meanings. And thus also the earth is also
replenished with human offspring. Its dryness is the symbol of its thirst for truth,
and of the fact that reason rules over it.
CHAPTER XXV
38. I also desire to say, O my Lord God, what the following Scripture suggests
to me. Indeed, I will speak without fear, for I will speak the truth, as thou inspirest
me to know what thou dost will that I should say concerning these words. For I do
not believe I can speak the truth by any other inspiration than thine, since thou art
the Truth, and every man a liar.634 Hence, he that speaks a lie, speaks out of
himself. Therefore, if I am to speak the truth, I must speak of thy truth.
Behold, thou hast given us for our food every seed-bearing herb on the face of
the earth, and all trees that bear in themselves seed of their own kind; and not to us
only, but to all the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field and all creeping
things.635 Still, thou hast not given these things to the fishes and great whales. We
have said that by these fruits of the earth the works of mercy were signified and
figured forth in an allegory: thus, from the fruitful earth, things are provided for the
necessities of life. Such an “earth” was the godly Onesiphorus, to whose house thou
gavest mercy because he often refreshed Paul and was not ashamed of his bonds.636
This was also the way of the brethren from Macedonia, who bore such fruit and
supplied to him what he lacked. But notice how he grieves for certain “trees,” which
did not give him the fruit that was due, when he said, “At my first answer no man
stood with me, but all men forsook me: I pray God, that it be not laid up to their
charge.”637 For we owe “fruits” to those who minister spiritual doctrine to us
through their understanding of the divine mysteries. We owe these to them as men.
We owe these fruits, also, to “the living souls” since they offer themselves as
examples for us in their own continence. And, finally, we owe them likewise to “the
flying creatures” because of their blessings which are multiplied on the earth, for
“their sound has gone forth into all the earth.”638
CHAPTER XXVI
39. Those who find their joy in it are fed by these “fruits”; but those whose
god is their belly find no joy in them. For in those who offer these fruits, it is not the
634Cf. Rom. 3:4.
635Cf. Gen. 1:29, 30.
636Cf. 2 Tim. 1:16.
6372 Tim. 4:16.
638Cf. Ps. 19:4.
fruit itself that matters, but the spirit in which they give them. Therefore, he who
serves God and not his own belly may rejoice in them, and I plainly see why. I see it,
and I rejoice with him greatly. For he [Paul] had received from the Philippians the
things they had sent by Epaphroditus; yet I see why he rejoiced. He was fed by what
he found his joy in; for, speaking truly, he says, “I rejoice in the Lord greatly, that
now at the last your care of me has flourished again, in which you were once so
careful, but it had become a weariness to you.639 These Philippians, in their
extended period of weariness in well-doing, had become weak and were, so to say,
dried up; they were no longer bringing forth the fruits of good works. And now Paul
rejoices in them--and not just for himself alone--because they were flourishing again
in ministering to his needs. Therefore he adds: “I do not speak in respect of my
want, for I have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content. I know
both how to be abased and how to abound; everywhere and in all things I am
instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can
do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me.”640
40. Where do you find joy in all things, O great Paul? What is the cause of
your joy? On what do you feed, O man, renewed now in the knowledge of God after
the image of him who created you, O living soul of such great continence--O tongue
like a winged bird, speaking mysteries? What food is owed such creatures; what is it
that feeds you? It is joy! For hear what follows: “Nevertheless, you have done well in
that you have shared with me in my affliction.”641 This is what he finds his joy in;
this is what he feeds on. They have done well, not merely because his need had been
relieved--for he says to them, “You have opened my heart when I was in distress”-but because he knew both how to abound and how to suffer need, in thee who didst
strengthen him. And so he said, “You [Philippians] know also that in the beginning
of the gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no church shared with me in regard
to giving and receiving, except you only. For even in Thessalonica you sent time and
time again, according to my need.”642 He now finds his joy in the fact that they have
returned once again to these good works, and he is made glad that they are
flourishing again, as a fruitful field when it recovers its fertility.
41. Was it on account of his own needs alone that he said, “You have sent me
gifts according to my needs?” Does he find joy in that? Certainly not for that alone.
But how do we know this? We know it because he himself adds, “Not because I
desire a gift, but because I desire fruit.” 643
Now I have learned from thee, O my God, how to distinguish between the
terms “gift” and “fruit.” A “gift” is the thing itself, given by one who bestows life’s
necessities on another--such as money, food, drink, clothing, shelter, and aid. But
“the fruit” is the good and right will of the giver. For the good Teacher not only said,
“He that receives a prophet,” but he added, “In the name of a prophet.” And he did
not say only, “He who receives a righteous man,” but added, “In the name of a
righteous man.”644 Thus, surely, the former shall receive the reward of a prophet;
the latter, that of a righteous man. Nor did he say only, “Whoever shall give a cup of
cold water to one of these little ones to drink,” but added, “In the name of a disciple”;
and concluded, “Truly I tell you he shall not lose his reward.” The “gift” involves
receiving a prophet, receiving a righteous man, handing a cup of cold water to a
639Phil. 4:10 (mixed text).
640Phil. 4:11-13.
641Phil. 4:14.
642Phil. 4:15-17.
643Phil. 4:17.,
644Cf. Matt. 10:41, 42.
disciple: but the “fruit” is to do all this in the name of a prophet, in the name of a
righteous man, in the name of a disciple. Elijah was fed by the widow with “fruit,”
for she knew that she was feeding a man of God and this is why she fed him. But he
was fed by the raven with a “gift.” The inner man of Elijah was not fed by this “gift,”
but only the outer man, which otherwise might have perished from the lack of such
food.
CHAPTER XXVII
42. Therefore I will speak before thee, O Lord, what is true, in order that the
uninstructed 645 and the infidels, who require the mysteries of initiation and great
works of miracles--which we believe are signified by the phrase, “Fishes and great
whales”--may be helped in being gained [for the Church] when they endeavor to
provide that thy servants are refreshed in body, or otherwise aided in this present
life. For they do not really know why this should be done, and to what end. Thus the
former do not feed the latter, and the latter do not feed the former; for neither do
the former offer their “gifts” through a holy and right intent, nor do the others
rejoice in the gifts of those who do not as yet see the “fruit.” For it is on the “fruit”
that the mind is fed, and by which it is gladdened. And, therefore, fishes and whales
are not fed on such food as the earth alone brings forth when they have been
separated and divided from the bitterness of “the waters” of the sea.
CHAPTER XXVIII
43. And thou, O God, didst see everything that thou hadst made and, behold,
it was very good.646 We also see the whole creation and, behold, it is all very good.
In each separate kind of thy work, when thou didst say, “Let them be made,” and
they were made, thou didst see that it was good. I have counted seven times where
it is written that thou didst see what thou hadst made was “good.” And there is the
eighth time when thou didst see all things that thou hadst made and, behold, they
were not only good but also very good; for they were now seen as a totality.
Individually they were only good; but taken as a totality they were both good and
very good. Beautiful bodies express this truth; for a body which consists of several
parts, each of which is beautiful, is itself far more beautiful than any of its
individual parts separately, by whose well-ordered union the whole is completed
even though these parts are separately beautiful.
CHAPTER XXIX
44. And I looked attentively to find whether it was seven or eight times that
thou didst see thy works were good, when they were pleasing to thee, but I found
that there was no “time” in thy seeing which would help me to understand in what
sense thou hadst looked so many “times” at what thou hadst made. And I said: “O
Lord, is not this thy Scripture true, since thou art true, and thy truth doth set it
forth? Why, then, dost thou say to me that in thy seeing there are no times, while
this Scripture tells me that what thou madest each day thou didst see to be good;
and when I counted them I found how many ‘times’?” To these things, thou didst
reply to me, for thou art my God, and thou dost speak to thy servant with a strong
645Idiotae: there is some evidence that this term was used to designate pagans who had a nominal
connection with the Christian community but had not formally enrolled as catechumens. See Th.
Zahn in Neue kirkliche Zeitschrift (1899), pp. 42-43.
646Gen. 1:31.
voice in his inner ear, my deafness, and crying: “O man, what my Scripture says, I
say. But it speaks in terms of time, whereas time does not affect my Word--my Word
which exists coeternally with myself. Thus the things you see through my Spirit, I
see; just as what you say through my Spirit, I say. But while you see those things in
time, I do not see them in time; and when you speak those things in time, I do not
speak them in time.”
CHAPTER XXX
45. And I heard this, O Lord my God, and drank up a drop of sweetness from
thy truth, and understood that there are some men to whom thy works are
displeasing, who say that many of them thou didst make under the compulsion of
necessity--such as the pattern of the heavens and the courses of the stars--and that
thou didst not make them out of what was thine, but that they were already created
elsewhere and from other sources. It was thus [they say] that thou didst collect and
fashion and weave them together, as if from thy conquered enemies thou didst raise
up the walls of the universe; so that, built into the ramparts of the building, they
might not be able a second time to rebel against thee. And, even of other things,
they say that thou didst neither make them nor arrange them--for example, all flesh
and all the very small living creatures, and all things fastened to the earth by their
roots. But [they say] a hostile mind and an alien nature--not created by thee and in
every way contrary to thee--begot and framed all these things in the nether parts of
the world.647 They who speak thus are mad [insani], since they do not see thy works
through thy Spirit, nor recognize thee in them.
CHAPTER XXXI
46. But for those who see these things through thy Spirit, it is thou who seest
them in them. When, therefore, they see that these things are good, it is thou who
seest that they are good; and whatsoever things are pleasing because of thee, it is
thou who dost give us pleasure in those things. Those things which please us
through thy Spirit are pleasing to thee in us. “For what man knows the things of a
man except the spirit of a man which is in him? Even so, no man knows the things
of God, but the Spirit of God. Now we have not received the spirit of the world, but
the Spirit of God, that we might know the things that are freely given to us from
God.”648 And I am admonished to say: “Yes, truly. No man knows the things of God,
but the Spirit of God: but how, then, do we also know what things are given us by
God?” The answer is given me: “Because we know these things by his Spirit; for no
one knows but the Spirit of God.” But just as it is truly said to those who were to
speak through the Spirit of God, “It is not you who speak,” so it is also truly said to
them who know through the Spirit of God, “It is not you yourselves who know,” and
just as rightly it may be said to those who perceive through the Spirit of God that a
thing is good; it is not they who see, but God who seeth that it is good.
It is, therefore, one thing to think like the men who judge something to be
bad when it is good, as do those whom we have already mentioned. It is quite
another thing that a man should see as good what is good--as is the case with many
whom thy creation pleases because it is good, yet what pleases them in it is not
thee, and so they would prefer to find their joy in thy creatures rather than to find
their joy in thee. It is still another thing that when a man sees a thing to be good,
647A reference to the Manichean cosmogony and similar dualistic doctrines of "creation."
6481 Cor. 2:11, 12.
God should see in him that it is good--that truly he may be loved in what he hath
made, he who cannot be loved except through the Holy Spirit which he hath given
us: “Because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who is
given to us.”649 It is by him that we see whatever we see to be good in any degree,
since it is from him, who doth not exist in any particular degree but who simply is
what he is.650
CHAPTER XXXII
47. Thanks be to thee, O Lord! We see the heaven and the earth, either the
corporeal part--higher and lower--or the spiritual and physical creation. And we see
the light made and divided from the darkness for the adornment of these parts,
from which the universal mass of the world or the universal creation is constituted.
We see the firmament of heaven, either the original “body” of the world between the
spiritual (higher) waters and the corporeal (lower) waters651 or the expanse of air-which is also called “heaven”--through which the fowls of heaven wander, between
the waters which move in clouds above them and which drop down in dew on clear
nights, and those waters which are heavy and flow along the earth. We see the
waters gathered together in the vast plains of the sea; and the dry land, first bare
and then formed, so as to be visible and well-ordered; and the soil of herbs and
trees. We see the light shining from above--the sun to serve the day, the moon and
the stars to give cheer in the night; and we see by all these that the intervals of time
are marked and noted. We see on every side the watery elements, fruitful with
fishes, beasts, and birds--and we notice that the density of the atmosphere which
supports the flights of birds is increased by the evaporation of the waters. We see
the face of the earth, replete with earthly creatures; and man, created in thy image
and likeness, in the very image and likeness of thee--that is, having the power of
reason and understanding--by virtue of which he has been set over all irrational
creatures. And just as there is in his soul one element which controls by its power of
reflection and another which has been made subject so that it should obey, so also,
physically, the woman was made for the man; for, although she had a like nature of
rational intelligence in the mind, still in the sex of her body she should be similarly
subject to the sex of her husband, as the appetite of action is subjected to the
deliberation of the mind in order to conceive the rules of right action. These things
we see, and each of them is good; and the whole is very good!
CHAPTER XXXIII
48. Let thy works praise thee, that we may love thee; and let us love thee that
thy works may praise thee--those works which have a beginning and an end in time-a rising and a setting, a growth and a decay, a form and a privation. Thus, they
have their successions of morning and evening, partly hidden, partly plain. For they
were made from nothing by thee, and not from thyself, and not from any matter
that is not thine, or that was created beforehand. They were created from
concreated matter--that is, matter that was created by thee at the same time that
thou didst form its formlessness, without any interval of time. Yet, since the matter
649Rom. 5:5.
650Sed quod est, est. Note the variant text in Skutella, op. cit.: sed est, est. This is obviously an echo
of the Vulgate Ex. 3:14: ego sum qui sum.
651Augustine himself had misgivings about this passage. In the Retractations, he says that this
statement was made "without due consideration." But he then adds, with great justice: "However,
the point in question is very obscure" (res autem in abdito est valde); cf. Retract., 2:6.
of heaven and earth is one thing and the form of heaven and earth is another thing,
thou didst create matter out of absolutely nothing (de omnino nihilo), but the form
of the world thou didst form from formless matter (de informi materia). But both
were done at the same time, so that form followed matter with no delaying interval.
CHAPTER XXXIV
49. We have also explored the question of what thou didst desire to figure
forth, both in the creation and in the description of things in this particular order.
And we have seen that things taken separately are good, and all things taken
together are very good, both in heaven and earth. And we have seen that this was
wrought through thy Word, thy only Son, the head and the body of the Church, and
it signifies thy predestination before all times, without morning and evening. But
when, in time, thou didst begin to unfold the things destined before time, so that
thou mightest make hidden things manifest and mightest reorder our disorders-since our sins were over us and we had sunk into profound darkness away from
thee, and thy good Spirit was moving over us to help us in due season--thou didst
justify the ungodly and also didst divide them from the wicked; and thou madest the
authority of thy Book a firmament between those above who would be amenable to
thee and those beneath who would be subject to them. And thou didst gather the
society of unbelievers652 into a conspiracy, in order that the zeal of the faithful
might become manifest and that they might bring forth works of mercy unto thee,
giving their earthly riches to the poor to obtain heavenly riches. Then thou didst
kindle the lights in the firmament, which are thy holy ones, who have the Word of
Life and who shine with an exalted authority, warranted to them by their spiritual
gifts. And then, for the instruction of the unbelieving nations, thou didst out of
physical matter produce the mysteries and the visible miracles and the sounds of
words in harmony with the firmament of thy Book, through which the faithful
should be blessed. After this thou didst form “the living soul” of the faithful, through
the ordering of their passions by the strength of continence. And then thou didst
renew, after thy image and likeness, the mind which is faithful to thee alone, which
needs to imitate no human authority. Thus, thou didst subordinate rational action
to the higher excellence of intelligence, as the woman is subordinate to the man.
Finally, in all thy ministries which were needed to perfect the faithful in this life,
thou didst will that these same faithful ones should themselves bring forth good
things, profitable for their temporal use and fruitful for the life to come. We see all
these things, and they are very good, because thou seest them thus in us--thou who
hast given us thy Spirit, by which we may see them so and love thee in them.
CHAPTER XXXV
50. O Lord God, grant us thy peace--for thou hast given us all things. Grant
us the peace of quietness, the peace of the Sabbath, the peace without an evening.
All this most beautiful array of things, all so very good, will pass away when all
their courses are finished--for in them there is both morning and evening.
51. But the seventh day is without an evening, and it has no setting, for thou
hast sanctified it with an everlasting duration. After all thy works of creation,
which were very good, thou didst rest on the seventh day, although thou hadst
created them all in unbroken rest--and this so that the voice of thy Book might
speak to us with the prior assurance that after our works--and they also are very
652See above, amaricantes, Ch. XVII, 20.
good because thou hast given them to us--we may find our rest in thee in the
Sabbath of life eternal.653
CHAPTER XXXVII
52. For then also thou shalt so rest in us as now thou workest in us; and,
thus, that will be thy rest through us, as these are thy works through us. But thou,
O Lord, workest evermore and art always at rest. Thou seest not in time, thou
movest not in time, thou restest not in time. And yet thou makest all those things
which are seen in time--indeed, the very times themselves--and everything that
proceeds in and from time.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
53. We can see all those things which thou hast made because they are--but
they are because thou seest them.654 And we see with our eyes that they are, and we
see with our minds that they are good. But thou sawest them as made when thou
sawest that they would be made.
And now, in this present time, we have been moved to do well, now that our
heart has been quickened by thy Spirit; but in the former time, having forsaken
thee, we were moved to do evil.655 But thou, O the one good God, hast never ceased
to do good! And we have accomplished certain good works by thy good gifts, and
even though they are not eternal, still we hope, after these things here, to find our
rest in thy great sanctification. But thou art the Good, and needest no rest, and art
always at rest, because thou thyself art thy own rest.
What man will teach men to understand this? And what angel will teach the
angels? Or what angels will teach men? We must ask it of thee; we must seek it in
thee; we must knock for it at thy door. Only thus shall we receive; only thus shall
we find; only thus shall thy door be opened.656
653Cf. this requiescamus in te with the requiescat in te in Bk. I, Ch. I.
654Cf. The City of God, XI, 10, on Augustine's notion that the world exists as a thought in the mind
of God.
655Another conscious connection between Bk. XIII and Bks. I-X.
656This final ending is an antiphon to Bk. XII, Ch. I, 1 above.